Affection Appreciation
by iamabicorn
Summary: If I'm honest with myself, I've always been a little jealous of how easy Brittany makes it look to express a million thoughts with just a touch. If only things were that simple.
1. Spinning the Bottle

"Santana!"

My attention was pulled away from the topic of discussion as I tried to locate the person shouting my name. The party was in full swing, a celebration thrown after the Spring scrimmage match by the upperclassmen for the freshmen athletes' transition from the JV squad to varsity. I supposed it was like a rite of passage for Puck and Finn and the other boys in our class as they were instructed to participate in stupid dares while the Cheerios stood around and watched. I looked around the basement, observing the action around me. The football players scattered around the room were busy trying to out–drink one another while their girlfriends cheered them on. I squinted at the small group of Cheerios standing next to me. They were absorbed in their own conversations. I couldn't figure out who was calling for me. The loud music pounded in my ears, and I shrugged, figuring I had imagined it.

"Santana!"

I looked down at the drink in my hand. It was only my second drink since I'd arrived at the party. It was almost empty, but I knew I hadn't consumed _that_ much to justify hearing voices in my head. I looked around the room again. More than likely, someone was trying to get some sort of reaction out of me. Rather than take the bait, I turned my attention back to the girls in the circle. When a hand grabbed my elbow a few seconds later, I whipped my head around, finding bright blue eyes staring back at me expectantly.

Mystery solved.

"Santana! Come play with us," Brittany beamed, trying to pull me away from the group of Cheerios.

I resisted, a little wary of what I was about to get myself into. "What sort of game?" I asked.

Brittany threaded her fingers through her hair and plucked at the hem of her shorts. She motioned to a cluster of people sitting on the floor across the room. "We need another girl for Spin the Bottle."

I groaned. "Britt, that's stuff kids in junior high do at their lame birthday parties."

"Come on, Santana," she pleaded. "Puck is playing! He said you should too."

My eyes almost rolled out of my head. Of _course_ Puck would be playing. And it was no surprise that he wanted me to join in. Despite the fact that we were supposed to be dating exclusively, Puck took every opportunity he had to satisfy his horny appetite. I pursed my lips, carefully thinking of how to turn her down without disappointing her. She must have sensed my reluctance because she started pleading with me before I had a chance to turn her down.

"It'll be fun," she promised, sliding her fingers from my elbow and clasping our hands together. "Puck's added a twist to it, so it's like, totally more adult."

I narrowed my eyes while I considered what she offered. If Puck came up with the new rules, there was no telling how adult the game would be.

"What sort of twist?" I asked.

"You'll just have to play to find out," she said, swinging our hands back and forth.

I debated with myself for a few more seconds before caving in to her demands and agreeing to play. Brittany jumped in the air, unable to contain her excitement, before leaning forward and kissing the top of my head. I couldn't help but smile at her. It was part of her personality to take delight in everything around her, but it was so much more pronounced when she'd been drinking. The grin on my face couldn't be contained as I watched her.

I let her pull me across the room towards the group. Brittany's penchant for physical affection had long since stopped making me feel uneasy. When we first became friends, it made me uncomfortable every time she touched me – whether it was a hug, a handhold, or a pinky–link. And I couldn't understand why Brittany had no sense of personal space until I'd met her family the first time I spent the night at her house. Her entire family was like that, having no qualms about hugging one another or giving a loving kiss on the forehead. It was so foreign to me, but after years of being around the Pierces, I eventually became used to it. It's become so common for my pinky to be wrapped around hers that it almost feels as if I'm missing part of myself if they're separated when we're together.

As we approached the far side of the room, I realized that the upperclassmen must have given the boys a break from the stupid tasks of the night because the group was almost exclusively freshmen. Puck and the other football players cheered and clapped and thanked Brittany for talking me into playing. She took a dramatic bow before plopping down on the floor between Mike and Puck and pulling me with her. I downed the last of my drink and set my cup behind me. My eyes flickered around the circle until they landed on Finn. It was confusing to see him sitting across from me when I didn't see Quinn in her place beside him, but then I spotted her seated in a chair just over his shoulder, carefully watching our game. Finn had somehow managed to convince her to let him play – probably at the expense of a kiss later, or whatever the hell it was that the celibacy queen got up to when the two of them were together.

"Alright people, listen up," Puck shouted. "We're going to shake things up a bit and turn this into a drinking game. When you spin, one of two things will go down. You'll either take a body shot with the person it lands on or kiss them full on the mouth. Here's the catch: the person who spun before you gets to choose what you'll be doing."

When everyone in the group seemed pleased with Puck's modifications, he grabbed an empty beer bottle and moved towards the center of the circle to start the game.

"Who gets to be the first to pick what happens?" Finn asked.

Puck considered his question for a moment, then pointed across the circle. "Matt's birthday is coming up. Let's let the birthday boy be the first to decide."

When everyone agreed, Puck started the game with a spin while everyone cheered. I was a little surprised when it landed on me. Brittany bumped my shoulder with hers and laughed as I shrugged, turning my attention towards Matt.

"What's it going to be Matty?" I asked.

A chant of "shot shot shot" rose from the group, and Matt couldn't deny what the people wanted. "Do a shot off her neck, Puck."

Once again, my eyes rolled on their own because seriously, how lame is a body shot off the neck? I seemed to be alone with this opinion however, and Puck grabbed an open bottle of tequila from the table behind him. Someone passed him the salt and limes as I tilted my head to give him access to my neck. He took his time dragging his tongue across my skin, and I was pretty sure he was deliberately doing so to rile everyone up. It was working. I could hear the whoops from his teammates, and I felt more than heard Brittany laughing in delight beside me. Her hand kept slapping my thigh, and I had to swat her hand away to keep from laughing along with her. When Puck finished taking his shot, he leaned over and kissed me.

"That's cheating!" someone yelled.

"Whatever. It's my turn," I said, leaning forward to spin. It landed on a sophomore named Mitchel, and Puck instructed us to kiss. My lips had barely touched his when I felt someone pulling me back. It was Puck.

"What the hell, Puck?"

"The last spinner gets to decide how long the kiss lasts," he told me.

"You can't just make up rules when you feel like it!" Michael exclaimed.

Puck's arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close to him. "I can when it comes to my girl."

Brittany put an end to the arguing. "New rule applies to everyone. Problem solved. Your turn, Mitch."

His jealous masculine act was ridiculous, but I just leaned into him, feeling too tipsy to care. I grabbed the bottled of tequila and took a quick shot as Michael took his turn. The game continued for quite some time, and despite my reluctance to join in the beginning, I thoroughly enjoyed watching the game unfold. Eventually the body shots became more indecent, and the kisses were drawn out longer. All the boys demanded a kiss every time two girls were paired up. After a few instances, the girls unanimously decided that a maximum time limit of thirty seconds needed to be put in place to keep the game moving along. We also did our best to make the guys feel as awkward as possible when the tables were turned.

After Puck spun the bottle for the twelfth time, I began to wonder whether he'd rigged it in his favor. When it landed on Brittany, a body shot off the chest was demanded by another Cheerio. The way she was smirking at me made it obvious she was hoping to see me flip out in jealousy. I refused to let her get to me and sent her my best bitch face before moving to make room for Brittany to lie on the floor.

Brittany unbuttoned her shirt and flopped down in front of Puck. I warned Puck not to let his tongue wander too far, but I only got a wink in return. Once again, he took his time licking across the top of her chest, and I had to smack him on the back of his head when his tongue strayed too close to her bra. After my hand made contact, the turn ended, and Brittany sat up to spin.

She attempted to button up her shirt as the bottle spun, but after the numerous shots she'd had to take, there was no way she could do it properly. A few buttons were pushed through the wrong holes, while some hadn't gone through any. Watching her inebriated struggle made me want to reach out and help her, but even my alcohol induced haze, I knew that would be weird. My mind was so preoccupied with her fingers struggling to close her shirt that I didn't notice when the bottle stopped. It was only when Puck nudged me that I looked up and realized that it had stopped on me. He twisted his body in front of us, excitement plastered over his face.

"I have been waiting for this moment my entire life," Puck exclaimed, receiving a high five from Matt and a few other players. "I demand a kiss."

"Seriously?" I asked. As close as I was to Brittany, kissing another girl was too embarrassing. I'd never kissed a girl before. I wasn't gay. The thought of making out with my best friend sent a nervous fluttering sensation straight to my stomach. It exploded when Brittany turned to me and grabbed my hand. My eyes darted around the circle, and I hoped that no one could tell how nervous I felt. I was supposed to be the confident HBIC of the freshman class, and I didn't want to lose the image I'd worked so hard to attain.

The chanting started once again, and I flicked my gaze over to Brittany. Her free hand was fist pumping in time to their voices. When she finally met my eyes, Brittany grinned and asked if I was ready. I tried to tug my hand away, but she squeezed it tighter and grabbed my other hand to pull us into a kneeling position.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, looking around the room and feeling extremely self–conscious. Our group had become obnoxiously loud, and it was drawing the attention of others. I was already anxious enough. For the first time in my life, I didn't think I could handle the extra attention our kneeling was giving us.

Her tongue wet her lips as she leaned in, but instead of kissing me, she brought her mouth to my ear. "Do you remember number four on my list?"

I pulled away enough to see her biting her lip, fighting to contain a grin, and an old memory rushed back. Brittany had an infatuation with every digital short Saturday Night Live aired. When _Jizz in My Pants _became a phenomenon, she thought it was hilarious and told me one night at my house that one of her bucket list wishes was to witness a guy lose it in front of her. She thought it would be really funny.

And I realized at that moment why she'd been so excited to play this game and why she seemingly struggled with her shirt buttons. Brittany was planning to make these drunken morons fight each other for a spot in the bathroom to jerk off later. The mischief in her eyes and the smirk on her face was the only convincing I'd needed. After all, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't help my best friend complete her bucket list?

Brittany saw the small smile that had crept its way onto my face, and she immediately knew that she'd been successful in convincing me to go along with her plan. I giggled at her excitement, but when she put my hands on her hips, that anxious fluttering returned. I couldn't tell if I was nervous about kissing a girl for the first time in front of a crowd or if I was nervous about kissing Brittany.

She gathered my hair behind my head and tied it with the extra hair band on her wrist. "Don't be nervous," she said, doing her best to reassure me. "It's totally hot."

Before I had a chance to argue, her arms wrapped around my neck, and she kissed me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from hers, and I felt her smile against my lips. When her eyes closed, I followed suit, ignoring the catcalls around us and finally allowing myself to feel what Brittany was doing to me.

It felt kind of strange kissing someone without feeling stubble from facial hair against my skin, but it was good. Like, really good. I was long aware of Brittany's kissing adventures with guys and girls. It was something I envied about her – how she was so open and unafraid of new experiences. It was clear to me then, why so many people wanted to kiss my best friend. Her lips tasted like her favorite lip gloss and were soft and moved with experience. I let her take the lead, something that was so unlike me. To my horror, a moan threatened to erupt from my throat when the fingers of her left hand started scratching at the back of my neck. The tip of her tongue pressed against my bottom lip, and the embarrassment that had lingered over me disappeared completely.

My hands squeezed her waist, pulling her into my body. I could feel her giggling, and it made me smile. When my lips parted, her tongue moved into my mouth. I ran my hands along her lower back, then up and back down. The hem of her shirt had ridden up, and I let my fingers run along its edge. For reasons I attributed to the alcohol that I'd consumed, an overwhelming desire to touch her skin washed over me. So I did. And when I did, Brittany whimpered. Suddenly, she pulled away.

The coldness I felt when her body moved away from mine was instantaneous. A disconnected feeling overcame me. I couldn't make my body respond to anything I wanted it to do. I couldn't understand why I wanted to pull her back to me, but I did, and my hands, unable to receive the signals my brain were sending them, slipped from around Brittany's back. When I could finally force my eyelids to open, I saw her wink at me. I realized then that Brittany wasn't nearly as drunk as I had assumed her to be.

"I think our thirty seconds are up, Santana."

The collective groan around us was the cold bucket of water that poured itself over me and snapped me out of my bubble. Loud music once again pounded into my ears. I'd completely forgotten where I was.

"Brittany, it would be my pleasure – and apparently Santana's too – if you'd join us in my bedroom next Friday."

If looks could kill, I would have murdered Puck right there in that senior's basement. "Jódete!"

I tried to slap the stupid smirk off his face, but Brittany grabbed my hand and laughed. "Sorry, Puck. I'm going out of town to see my gran that weekend," she lied. (I knew full well that she and I were planning to stay holed up in my room to have a One Tree Hill marathon all weekend.) "…but maybe next time."

I'm pretty sure my jaw hit the floor at the same time as all the boys at her insinuation. Realizing I needed to keep my cool, I collected myself before anyone had a chance to notice. I tried to sit down in the circle again, but Brittany stood and pulled me up to my feet.

"Where are you going?" Mike asked.

Brittany just shrugged. "It's been fun, but I'm bored. I'm gonna go dance."

She tugged me along, assuming – correctly so – that I would want to join her. Once we were out of earshot, she turned to me. Excitement was plastered all over her face.

"Did you see Finn?" she asked.

"No."

"Me neither. I bet he's in the bathroom right now."

How Brittany could get excited about the idea of Finn Hudson masturbating in the bathroom was beyond me. "Uhg, Britt. Gross. That is not something I ever want to think about."

"Then come dance with me. We have to celebrate crossing something off our list," she explained, already swaying to the beat.

After what just went down, I briefly considered adding 'make out with Brittany again' to my own bucket list, to be crossed off in the near future. But that line of thinking was gay. I wasn't gay. "_Your_ list, Britt. Not mine," I reminded her.

Her fingers gently pulled the tie from my hair and smoothed the fallen strands away from my face. "Whatever. Come on."

Brittany took my pinkie in hers, and just like that, I felt complete again.


	2. Kissing is Relaxing

**This will probably be a perpetual work in progress that is updated whenever inspiration strikes (and whenever I have time).**

* * *

><p>I was waiting for some sort of consequence from my kiss with Brittany in the weeks following the game – for people to whisper things behind my back or for things to get weird with our friendship – but nothing happened. Brittany never mentioned it after we linked pinkies at the party, although Puck had been hounding me for a week nonstop about a threesome until he dropped it when I stopped putting out for him and threatened to cut him off completely after that week.<p>

My foot jerked when I felt a light touch against the sole, and I looked up from Britt's newest Cosmo when I heard her reprimand from the foot of the bed.

"You're going to get this polish all over my blanket if you don't keep still, Santana."

Her face was set in what she thought was a stern expression. Her left hand was trying to readjust my foot in her lap while she clenched the nail polish tight in her other. The whole scene was absolutely adorable, and I laughed. "Well, Britt–Britt, it's kinda hard to stay still when you're tickling my feet all the time."

Her face broke into a grin, and she tickled my foot despite my protest. "I'm almost done, so deal with it for a few more minutes."

She went back to work, focusing her efforts on the second coat of polish on my nails. I tossed the magazine to the side to watch her. Her face was about a foot from my toes, and her tongue was just slightly sticking out from between her teeth. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her lips, and my mind strayed back to the few seconds I was able to kiss them and how it – despite my mind telling me it was wrong – felt incredibly amazing. I wondered if kissing other girls would feel the same, or whether it was just Brittany's lips that were capable of making me feel that way. I wondered whether my friend was privy to a secret while I remained in the dark. A small part of me wanted to be let in on that secret. I continued to stare at her lips wondering if kissing them would feel as good as the last time. With that thought, a familiar fluttering sensation returned. I realized what I was doing and forced my eyes to her hands, shaking my head to clear those traitorous thoughts.

"Are you alright, Santana?"

Her eyes looked curious, though slightly concerned. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, "Why did you start kissing girls?"

Brittany's voice wobbled as she giggled. "What?"

Heat rushed to my face, and I felt stupid. "There had to have been a reason. You don't just…Whatever. Just forget it."

It was too embarrassing to attempt the conversation, so I tried to pull my foot from her lap, but her hands held it there. She screwed the cap back onto the nail polish bottle and set it to the side.

"Well, the first time was at a party" she started, her thumbs pressing into the sole of my right foot to work the tension from the muscles there. "and Jessica Stevenson – who was pretty drunk at the time – she kissed me, and I dunno…it just felt nice."

It made me feel a little better to know I wasn't the only one who thought a girl's kiss was pleasant. "Is it really that different from kissing a boy?"

She smirked at my question. "You and I kissed. You tell me, Santana. Is it that different?"

While I would begrudgingly admit I enjoyed our kiss to myself, there was no way in hell that I would ever voice it out loud, even to Brittany, so I changed the subject. "You have every guy in the school tripping over themselves for the chance to hook up with you. Why would you waste your time kissing girls?"

It looked as if Brittany were thinking hard about my question and choosing her response carefully. After a few seconds, she said, "It's like ice cream. Sometimes you want vanilla and sometimes you want chocolate. Sometimes it's hard to choose which one you want, but you don't always have to choose. If you're comfortable with it, you realize it's possible to have whatever you want whenever you want. They're both delicious."

She shrugs as if it were that simple. And maybe for her it was. I couldn't wrap my mind around the idea of having the freedom to choose whether I wanted to kiss a guy or a girl, but that was Brittany in a nutshell, and once again, I found myself envying her openness.

"So, you like kissing girls?" I asked.

Brittany nodded, checking to see whether my nails were dry before swapping my right foot for my left and continuing her massage. The intimate touch felt a little uncomfortable to me but not entirely unpleasant. Brittany was actually very good at it. She naturally communicated through touch, so it shouldn't have surprised me.

Maybe it was because her touch has always been comforting. Maybe it was because Brittany has always been so open about her thoughts and feelings. Maybe it was because I knew she was the one person that would never, ever judge me. But I found myself asking her, "Have you ever had sex with a girl?"

Inwardly I cringed when I heard how much curiosity leaked into my voice, as if my subconscious was genuinely interested in what it was like. Immediately, I put a stop to those feelings. I wasn't gay, after all.

"I've already told you who I've been with. There's only been two guys, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. I just thought that you might have…and not told me."

Brittany smiled and rubbed her palm reassuringly over my calf. "I tell you everything. No secrets, right?"

She held up her right pinkie finger as a reminder of what we'd promised when we were seven. I grabbed it with my left.

"No secrets," I said. I hesitated before continuing. "But _would_ you ever sleep with a girl?"

"Santana, if you're horny you can just use my bathroom to –"

I felt my heart jump into my throat. "What? No! God, Britt, I didn–"

Her laughter filled the room. "Relax, I'm kidding."

My heart was beating a mile a minute, and I had no idea why. I felt her squeeze my foot again, and I looked up from my embarrassment. Her eyes were warm and sincere. Instantly, my heart slowed.

"If the opportunity presented itself and if it felt right…I dunno. I suppose I could. It's all about what feels right, isn't it?"

"Aren't you afraid of people thinking you're gay?" I asked.

Her face scrunched in confusion. "But I like boys, so I can't be gay, right?"

"Bisexual, then," I clarified.

"I don't know what I am," she shrugged. "All I know is that I like kissing boys, and I like kissing girls. I've had sex with boys, and I'm not afraid of doing it with girls, and it shouldn't matter what other people think."

"But it does matter, Britt," I insisted. "People are complete assholes if they think you're different – if they don't think you fit the mold."

"Being like everyone else is boring. I like being me."

I admired her bravery because that's what it was to me. Never in a million years did I think I could believe what she said could hold true for me too. I had been pressed into the mold, and I felt too rigid and fixed to possibly have any flexibility left in me.

"Anyway, I like doing what I like to do. It doesn't matter who it is because kissing just feels really good," she continued. "It's super relaxing."

Several boys have kissed me, and while some were absolutely awful, I have had very pleasant experiences while making out with them. But to call it relaxing? I was confused because I thought the point of kissing was supposed to have the opposite effect. It did for the boys I'd kissed, anyway.

Like a secret sixth sense, Brittany picked up on my confusion immediately. She had always been able to read me. "Have you not ever felt that way when you kiss Puck?"

"Um…" Kissing Puck was many things. Relaxing was not one of them because we usually didn't kiss for very long. Most of the time, kissing led straight to fucking. Puck wasn't bad with his mouth; he was just better with his fingers.

"If you can't answer that question immediately, then Puck is doing something wrong," she said. Then, without warning, Brittany jumped from her bed and moved to her iPod dock, which was set on top of her dresser across the room. A soft melody began to play, and I recognized it from her bedtime playlist.

"Brittany, what –"

She gracefully plopped herself down next to me. "I'm gonna teach you what to do so you can show Puck what he's doing wrong."

It took a few seconds what her words actually implied to register in my brain, but as soon as it did, heat again flushed my cheeks. "No, no. I didn't say he was bad at it. Really, Britt, that's not necess–"

"He can be really good at kissing and still not know how to _really_ be good at it," she explained, resting her hand against my thigh. "I just want you to see that it can be even better, and maybe Puck won't be in such a hurry to take his pants off next time."

If my face wasn't already flushed, it would have definitely been at that point. Brittany's ability to get straight to the point never ceased to amaze me. Even though I knew she was just trying to reassure me, her hand's movement along my leg was becoming very distracting, and I couldn't form a response. Brittany must have taken pity on my inability to speak because her hand stilled before she spoke again.

"It's fine if you don't want to, Santana. I just wanted to help," she said softly. Then she paused before adding, "I liked kissing you a few weeks ago. You're really good at it."

If words were forming in my brain to finally respond to her, they were completely destroyed when she said she liked kissing me.

Then I heard myself say, "You are too."

Brittany's tongue wet her lips, and her eyes darted to mine as she said, "This is selfish of me because I was hoping you'd say yes. I kinda wanted to kiss you again."

My thoughts were going crazy. I couldn't control the excitement and fear and anticipation that Brittany's words were giving me. I'd secretly wondered whether I'd ever be able to kiss her again and hoped that perhaps I'd have the chance to do so again at one of the summer parties we'd inevitably be invited to in the coming weeks – under the guise of a stupid party game and alcohol consumption, of course. Now that the opportunity had presented itself in the form of Brittany's open declaration and the privacy of her bedroom, I couldn't deny what I wanted – what we _both_ wanted.

When I finally agreed, it was barely above a whisper. "Okay."

And I knew she heard me because her face broke out into a massive grin. I felt her palm slide from my leg to the mattress beside me as she leaned closer. Brittany licked her lips again, and I couldn't stop myself from mirroring her actions.

"If you don't like it, I'll stop," she promised.

I barely had time to let her know I understood by nodding when she finished closing the gap and pressed our lips together.

Her lips were just as soft as I remembered. Though I still felt incredibly awkward as we kissed, I felt less pressure. I supposed it was because there was no audience. Brittany's languid movements help set me at ease, and I finally felt the relaxed feeling she'd mentioned earlier.

Touching Brittany would have been too intimate for me to handle, and I was unsure of what to do with my hands, so I settled for grabbing the comforter in my fists instead of tangling them in her hair. As usual, Brittany had no reservations about her physical affection. My hips dipped with the mattress as she repositioned her hands on either side of them. The room started to spin when her tongue slipped between my lips. It felt as if the room was tipping me backwards. I tried compensating by leaning forward, but I realized it was Brittany who was gently guiding me down. Panic swelled within me as my head touched the pillow.

"What are you doing?"

"It's okay," she soothed, "This is going to feel really good. You're super tense right now. It's supposed to be relaxing, right? It's easier to relax when you're lying down."

Through the fog in my brain, her logic was flawless. I couldn't argue with her. It _did_ feel better lying down. Even better when she settled her weight on top of me. The room suddenly got hot when that flashed through my head. What we were doing was beyond any intimacy I'd ever experienced – even with Puck.

Despite my discomfort at being so close to her, I couldn't move a muscle. I was paralyzed underneath her. Then she brought me back to life when she kissed me. It wasn't frantic, but our kissing had definitely lost the slowness with which it started. I could almost feel my body melting into the mattress, her body pressing me into it as she straddled my hips. I caught her bottom lip between my teeth when I felt her fingers slide through my hair. My fists gripped the blanket tighter.

Brittany broke the kiss and rested her cheek against mine. Her fingers were still scratching lightly against my scalp when she breathed into my ear.

"You don't have to keep your hands to yourself."

I was afraid of what my body would do if I didn't hold on to her comforter as if my life depended on it. Because the way I saw it, my life _did_ depend on it. In the back of my mind, I was terrified with my behavior. Everyone I knew (save for Brittany) would be appalled at what I was doing, but I couldn't stop. Brittany's kisses along my jaw and behind my ear pushed those fears away. All I could think about was Brittany's amazing mouth and what I would do to her if my hands ever let go of that blanket.

My plan was working, and I had every intention of keeping my hands buried in her covers. But then her tongue began a trail down my neck, nipping the skin as she worked her way down, and I lost control. I wrapped my arms tight around her waist, gripping my elbows with my fingers to prevent them from seeking soft skin. A mark was forming on my neck, but I didn't care. I'd deal with hiding it from Puck later. I just turned my head to the side and gripped her closer to me. I heard Brittany whine, and suddenly we were kissing again.

Time evaded us. I didn't know exactly how much time had passed until I heard a soft knock and her mother's voice right outside her room.

"Are you girls in there?"

I pushed Brittany away and scrambled to get out from under her. My legs tangled in hers and I fell off the side of the bed just as the bedroom door was gently opened. It felt as if my heart were going to beat its way out of my chest. I kept my line of vision focused on the various items shoved underneath Brittany's bed. It was too terrifying to even consider meeting her mother's eyes. I glanced at Britt. Thank God she was wearing her hair down because a skewed ponytail would only make it more obvious as to what Carolyn had just interrupted.

"Santana, sweetie, why are you in the floor?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. There was no reasonable explanation for what I was doing. Fortunately, my best friend was able to speak up for me.

"We can't find one of her sandals. I thought Lord Tubbington might have dragged it under the bed. You know how he likes to hide things."

I refrained from cringing. It wasn't the best lie, but at least I was actually barefoot. I chanced looking in Carolyn's direction. Her eyes were narrowed slightly in consideration as she processed her daughter's lie. I prayed silently for her to believe it. The situation was already awkward enough without having to come up with a second story.

After a few agonizing seconds, she gave us a small smile. "Are you staying for dinner, Santana? Joe is making hamburgers."

All I could do was nod dumbly. Carolyn smiled at us again, told us everything would be ready in ten minutes, and closed the door behind her as she left.

A shuttered breath left my body. I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my head against them. My entire body felt shaky. Brittany slid from the bed and sidled up next to me. Her hand was gentle as she combed through my hair and rubbed my back.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was soothing, a perfect complement to the paths her palm was traveling along my spine.

"That was too close, Britt. Way too close."

A soft breath blew by my ear when she rested her chin against my shoulder. When she spoke, I felt her voice rumble through my chest.

"I guess we can be thankful that my mom learned her lesson about knocking after walking in on my cousin Brian when he was staying in the guest room a few years ago."

My stomach felt sick at the thought of what would have happened had Carolyn just walked in. The feeling got worse when I wondered whether she knocked because she suspected something was happening behind closed doors.

I swallowed thickly. "Do you think she knew? Is that why she knocked?"

Her fingers slid through my hair again. "No. She's always respected mine and my sisters' privacy…especially after seeing what boys do behind closed doors."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Brittany was always so good at diffusing tense situations. I lifted my head to look at her. She was grinning, pleased as always that she had managed to calm me down. I felt her kiss my temple and then she stood, grabbing my hands and lifting me from the floor.

"Okay, ignoring the fact that my mother scared the bejesus out of you with her awful timing…how do you feel? Are you relaxed?"

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't fight off the smile that snuck its way onto my face. "Yeah, I am."

"Good. I'm glad it worked," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door. "Come on, I'm starving."


	3. Attempting to Comfort

My phone's text tone chimed for what had to have been the 23rd time in the past forty minutes. I knew it was Puck before I even looked at the text.

_i kno ur gonna change ur mind. cum over. u kno u cant resist my dick._

I'm sure he thought himself clever at the usage of the word "cum", but his poor grammar made me cringe. Even the fact that he was practically begging me to come over and fuck his brains out couldn't make me feel better. The urge to throw my phone across the room out of disgust was almost too hard to resist, but I remembered my mother's warning about what would happen if I broke or lost another phone. Since I didn't want to pay for another out of my own spending money, I texted back as calmly as my fingers would allow.

_Your dick isn't as impressive as you think it is, Puckerman._

My phone dropped into my lap, and I tried to focus on the book in front of me. The chime rang through the air sooner than I had expected, and I read his reply.

_thats not what u said last week _

By then, I was so irritated with him, I knew I wouldn't get anything done unless I found a way to ignore the rest of his attempts to ask me over to his house.

_A decent girlfriend is supposed to stroke egos, regardless of her boyfriend's pathetic dick size. Since we are no longer dating, fuck off. Watch some porn and leave me alone._

As soon as the text was sent, I switched it over to vibrate and shoved it underneath the pillows on my bed. I'd dumped Puck a week earlier when I caught him sucking face with a slutty junior at the first major party of the summer. I bitched him out in front of everyone and kicked him hard in the balls before storming out.

I huffed and flipped my book open once more. The words blurred in front of me, and I couldn't focus. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, forcing myself to concentrate and listen to my breathing in order to calm down. I rolled my neck, stretching the muscles to relieve the tension the past two hours of studying had caused. Papi bought the SAT prep book with the corresponding online course. I was supposed to be working through the schedule he gave me throughout the summer. Normally, I'd blow it off, but I knew he would be checking the online course to monitor my progression. And I knew he only wants the best for me, but studying was not how I had planned (or wanted) to spend my summer vacation. Especially since I wouldn't be a junior until _next_ year.

I'd promised that I would work through a practice test before I went to sleep. Texting Puck had ruined my attempt to time myself, so I figured I would just finish the pretest and lie about the timing. No one would have to know. My eyes opened and adjusted, and I was able to see clearly again. The sound of my phone buzzing underneath the pillows was barely audible, and I was able to finally ignore it.

The critical reading section wasn't too difficult. I'd always liked reading, and apart from some of the vocabulary, I felt like I did pretty well. The math section made me want to jump out of the window. There were very few questions I actually knew how to solve since I'd only just finished Algebra 1. By the time I finished the writing portion, my eyesight had gone blurry, and a massive headache that had begun at my temples had spread behind my eyes and along my forehead. I rubbed my palms over my face and fell backwards. I still had to score my test, but I could feel sleep beginning to overtake me.

"Santa–"

"Shit!" I screamed and almost fell off of my bed. It was really embarrassing when I realized it was only Brittany. She was standing at my door looking torn between feeling guilty and wanting to laugh. "Jesus, fuck, Britt. You scared me."

"I'm sorry."

The rapid beat of my heart was pounding against my hand, which was uselessly pressed against my chest as if such a thing could make me calm. I never understood why people did that, but I was just as guilty.

Brittany crossed over to my bed and sat down beside me, looking over the study materials spread over the blanket. "I guess we're not going to see _Up_ tonight, huh?"

I'd completely forgotten about our movie plans. My eyes snapped to the clock on my nightstand. It was already nine thirty. The last show's start time was in fifteen minutes. There was no way we would make it to the theater in time. I felt awful.

"Why didn't you call to remind me?"

Her brows scrunched together. It was adorable. "I did. Like, five times. You never answered."

I dug my phone out from under the pillows. There were three texts from Puck, one from Quinn, and six from Brittany. And there were several missed calls from her too.

"I am _so_ sorry, Britt. I got caught up in all this studying, and the time just slipped my mind. I'll make it up to you, I promise. We can go to the first show tomorrow."

Brittany, being the best friend she was, just smiled and patted my knee. "It's okay, Santana. I'm not in a rush to see it. It'll be here all summer. I know how important this test is to you."

The scowl on my face must have been particularly awful because Brittany winced. "I couldn't care less about the stupid SATs. Papi is expecting me to do well on it," I said, picking up the schedule he'd made me, "and I have to follow this all summer. It's given me the worst headache of all time and is stressing me out, and I've only had this guide for one day."

"Why are you studying if your parents aren't here?"

"Papi's working the overnight shift tonight, and Mami is with her book club or something. They'll ask about it as soon as I get up in the morning."

"Why don't you just wait until the morning to finish?"

I scoffed. "There's no way I'm waking up that early. They are ruining my entire summer. I'm not letting them have my mornings too."

Brittany lifted the schedule from my grip and studied it. Her nose crinkled when she saw how many days had been marked. "At least he gave you the weekends off."

"Like that's any consolation. This summer is going to suck ass."

She nodded sympathetically, and I watched as she flipped through the various papers strewn across the bed before I suddenly remembered why we had originally planned to see the movie in the evening instead of the afternoon. "How did your date with Mike go?"

She smiled and tucked her feet underneath her body. "A girl shouldn't kiss and tell."

"Are you implying that you got a little Asian booty?" I teased.

Her cheeks reddened, and she looked away, unable to keep eye contact. I couldn't hold back my surprise. "Brittany Pierce!"

Her hands flew to my knees. "It's not like that, Santana! We didn't sleep together."

"Then why is your face so red?"

"It's not!"

"I can feel the heat coming off your face from here, Britt-Britt," I laughed.

"Okay, promise you won't tell?"

She held up her pinky, and I automatically linked mine with hers. We had a full disclosure policy every time one of us got lucky.

"Of course," I said.

She scooted closer to me on the bed and dropped our hands to my knee again. Her voice lowered conspiratorially as she leaned towards me. "I think I had, like, the best orgasm of my life today."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I thought you said you didn't have sex!"

"We didn't. But Mike had no problem giving before receiving, if you know what I mean."

My jaw dropped. I'd _begged_ Puck – and I _never_ begged – to go down on me the entire time we'd dated, and he never would. I was completely jealous. "How did you convince him to do it?"

Her eyes drifted off to the side, as if she were remembering exactly what happened. The memory must have been good because her grin grew wider. "He was the one who suggested it."

I felt like one of those dorky pre-teens who was still waiting for her first kiss, but I couldn't help it. "What was it like?" I asked.

"It was awesome. You should try it. You'd like it."

"Yeah, well, that hasn't worked out so well for me in the past. Maybe I should lure Mike away from you, since he seems to love it so much."

Brittany pulled out her phone. "I can call him if you want. I have his number."

She'd already started tapping away, and I grabbed it out of her hands. "No, Britt, I was just joking. I'm not going to steal your boyfriend."

"We're not dating, though."

"Why not?" I asked. "I thought you liked him."

"I do," she said and stood up from the bed, "but I've known him almost as long as I've known you. It would be weird."

Only Brittany could find dating a friend after receiving oral sex weird. "If you say so."

I turned my attention back to the mess in front of me and remembered that I was supposed to be checking my answers. Brittany began digging around in the dresser drawer that contained all of her clothes. "Are you still staying over?"

"Mhmm. Can I take a shower?"

"Sure."

Thankfully, I was able to grade everything in less than ten minutes while Brittany got ready for bed. Considering the fact that I knew next to nothing for the math section, I thought my score of 1220 was pretty impressive for an incoming sophomore. Without hesitating, I gathered all of my papers and closed all of my books and notebooks and put them on my nightstand next to my clock. I'd worry about organization later. I reached under my bed and pulled out my stash of magazines and catalogs. Making a mental wish list of the things I found between the pages was a major form of stress relief. If my parents were going to force me to waste my summer, they would be making up for it by purchasing the items on my list. I had just started flipping through the Tiffany & Co catalog when Brittany walked through my bedroom door.

I looked up and saw her walking towards me with her hair in a towel. She pulled the magazine out of my hands and tossed it on the pile with the others. "Come with me."

"What are y–"

I felt her finger against my lips as her other hand pulled me off the bed. "Just be quiet and trust me."

I let her guide me down the hall and into the bathroom. The moment I walked in, my eyes grew wide at the sight in front of me. Brittany had turned off the light and placed a few candles around the edge of the tub. Inside, she had filled it with a sweet smelling bubble bath. I looked at her curiously.

"I know you have a headache, and I can tell you're super tense from your SAT prep," she explained as she led me further into the room. "This is just to help you feel better." I watched as she picked up a full glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol PM. "Hold out your hand."

I did and Brittany shook out the tiny capsules onto my palm. I brought them to my lips and tipped them in the back of my throat, washing them down with the water in my other hand. Satisfied that I had everything I needed, Brittany left the room and added, "Don't fall asleep in there," before closing the door behind her.

I put my hair up in a bun on the top of my head after removing my clothes. As I slipped into the bath, the smell of the lavender oil from the water hit me, and I felt my body practically melt into the water. The temperature was perfect, soothing my skin and the tight muscles beneath. Twenty minutes passed before I even attempted to start washing myself. Eventually the water grew cold. Reluctantly, I pulled the drain stopper before I stood and reached for my towel. I was too relaxed to worry about washing my hair, so I wrapped the towel around myself and made my way back into my room after blowing out all of the candles.

When I got back to my room, I noticed Brittany had dried her hair and was leaning against the headboard. I walked over to my dresser and pulled out some shorts and an old sleep shirt.

"How was the bath?"

I turned around to face her. "It was exactly what I needed. Thanks, Britt-Britt."

She smiled at me and turned her attention back to the book on her lap. I turned back to my clothes. I managed to pull my shorts up my legs without any trouble, but I had to drop the towel to put on my shirt. After I pulled out the hair tie, I flopped onto my stomach on the bed next to Brittany. I rifled through the magazine pile until I found the newest Victoria's Secret catalog and started flipping through the pages.

"What's absolution?" I heard her ask.

"It's like forgiveness."

There were several lingerie sets I liked in the magazine, and I dog-eared the pages.

"What does cognizant mean?"

I flipped another page. "It's being aware about something."

The models were extremely attractive. I had to do a double take at one of them. She had an uncanny resemblance to the girl lying next to me.

"Juxtapose?"

"Putting things close to each other."

The model was wearing pink set with black polka dots. It was really cute. I thought it would look really good on Brittany. I folded the page's corner and decided to buy it for her birthday next month.

"What about transience?"

I lifted my head to look at the book in her lap. "What are you reading?"

She tried to hide it from me, but I managed to grab it before she could. It was my SAT study guide. I looked back at Brittany. "Why are you reading this?

She looked embarrassed. "Am I not supposed to?"

I gave the book back to her. "I don't care if you read it. I just don't see why you'd willingly choose to read that shit."

I watched her finger trace the title on the cover. "You're super smart. Do you know that?"

When I heard how quiet her voice sounded, I sat up. "Britt, are you okay?"

She refused to meet my eyes. "It's good that you're studying so hard. You already know all of these words, and you just finished freshman year."

"It's only because Papi makes me study them. No one else has such hard-asses for fathers. Except maybe those Chang kids."

A sad smile crept across her face. "That's why the rest of us will be stuck here."

I nudged her arm with my hand. "What are you talking about?"

She finally looked up at me, and I felt something inside of me break when I saw her try to wipe away the tears in her eyes. "It's nothing, Santana. Let's just go to bed."

"This doesn't look like nothing," I said and reached for her hands. I tossed the prep guide in the floor. "Talk to me, Britt."

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm just being stupid." Her eyes closed before she pulled her hands away to lift the covers. I watched helplessly as she shuffled underneath them. When it came to feelings, I was absolute shit. Brittany was always the one who knew exactly what to do when someone was upset.

I said the only thing that I could think of to comfort her. "You're not stupid."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. A broken sob escaped her, and I began to panic. I'd only ever been witness to Brittany crying twice in my life: once when her grandfather died when we were twelve and the other when her first cat had to be put to sleep after he had been hit by a car. Both times she'd had her parents to soothe her tears. I did the only thing I could think of and crawled under the covers with her. I reached for her and hugged her. Instantly, she buried her face against my chest and clutched the back of my shirt in her fists.

"Brittany, tell me what's wrong," I pleaded, then softly added, "Please."

"I'm going to m-miss you so m-much," she cried.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"N-not now, but after we g-graduate…"

I still wasn't sure what had caused her to be so upset. "Well, yeah, we'll all go to college after that."

"I w-w-won't. I c-can't. I'm not smart enough."

My heart sank. Brittany had always been insecure about her academics, but she wasn't dumb. I rested my head against hers. "Yes, you are," I insisted. "You're coming with me."

I felt her shake her head. "Your dad will m-make you go to a genius school."

"Papi can't force me to go anywhere I don't want to go. I'm taking you with me. There's no way we're going to be stuck in this shithole."

"My s-scores will never be h-high enough."

"I think you need to give yourself more credit, but if you still feel worried about it, I'll help you study. We can start with all the vocabulary this year and worry about math next year."

I felt her head move from beneath mine and turned to look at her. She had turned onto her side, her face half obstructed by the pillow beneath it. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, but her sobbing had slowed. Her eyes were bluer than I ever remember seeing them, and they were looking into mine like they were searching for reassurance. I still had no idea what I should do, so I did the only thing I could think of and leaned forward.

My lips only brushed against hers for a second before I pulled away. I wasn't sure what I was doing or if it was even okay with her. She continued to stare at me with wide eyes. It made me a little uncomfortable to look back at her, so I closed my eyes and moved forward again. This time, I didn't pull away. I just kept still, waiting for her to decide what she wanted to do. It took a few seconds, but I felt those soft lips begin to move ever so slightly against mine. Her hands moved from my back to my front, still clutching my shirt like she would disappear if she let go. I shifted my own hands to her waist and pulled her closer to me. I didn't know much about comforting anyone, but Brittany seemed to be responding, so I kept kissing her. Her lips were salty from the tears that had slid down their tracks on her cheeks, but after a few minutes, the tracks had dried. Eventually she slowed her kisses to a stop and rested her forehead against mine. Her eyes were closed and her breathing shallow.

"I'm not going to leave you behind, Britt." Her eyes opened at my spoken promise, and I squeezed her waist in a tight hug. "You're my best friend."

Her voice cracked when she agreed, "Forever."

"And there's nothing you can do about it," I teased.

She smiled then. "I wouldn't want to."

I twisted so that I was on my back and pulled her against me. I wanted Brittany to draw as much comfort from me as she could, so I held her while she rested her head against my chest once more – this time without tears. I brought the arm resting underneath her around her shoulders and started stroking my palm across her exposed ear. It was something my mother used to do for me and my brothers when we had nightmares or got sick and couldn't sleep. The sound of her hand sliding across my ear never failed to soothe me as a child, and I hoped that it would do the same for my best friend. Before long, I felt Brittany's body relax and her breathing even out as she finally dropped off to sleep. I pressed a small kiss to the top of her head and whispered good night before closing my eyes and falling asleep myself.


	4. Torturing through Silence

We'd just arrived home from Miami, where my oldest brother and his wife and their son – who is probably the most disgustingly cute baby in the history of the world – are currently living. Michael was only five months old, so we flew down to stay with them at the end of June. It was kind of a family tradition during that time of year to vacation together. We usually did it closer to Lima, but Thomas's company relocated him to southern Florida two months after they found out Madelyn was pregnant. My parents decided to make the trip so that my abuela, brother, and I could all meet Michael. Most of the trip was spent at their new home. We took turns passing the baby back and forth and eating and celebrating the holiday, but at the end of the week, I was ready to go home. Not because I love Ohio more than Miami, and not because I don't love my family. I just missed my best friend. I hadn't spoken to her in two days because she'd lost her phone. I scrolled through my messages until I saw the one sent from her mother's cell.

_Hey santana it's britt. Lost my phone. I'll let you know when I find it._

That was it. I tried texting back, but there was never a reply. Mami banned me from calling her house while we were gone. I decided that if she didn't text me back by the time we got home, I was going to visit her house to help her find it because I couldn't stand not being able to communicate with her. None of my other friends were nearly as fun to talk to.

Before we left the Columbus airport, I won the rock, paper, scissors showdown with Felix to determine who got the backseat of our family's Highlander. He was stuck in front of me next to our mother as Papi drove. My abuela was currently in the passenger's seat next to Papi, reminiscing about the time she held Thomas right after he was born over twenty-five years ago. I was sprawled out along the seat, an earbud for my iPod discretely hidden in the ear facing away from my mother to help me tune out the idle conversation. She believed that family conversation should be maximized during our trips, so I had to at least look like I was going to engage.

Sleep was threatening to overtake my body, but I refused to give in. I was afraid I would sleep through Brittany's text. Whenever I had to travel for more than an hour, I always fell asleep. It didn't matter if I was on a bus ride for one of our Cheerios competitions or stuck in traffic in my mother's Camry. If I was a passenger, there was a pretty good chance I would be asleep when we arrived at our destination. It was difficult for me to force my eyes to stay open as we drove the two hour trip back to Lima

Ever since Brittany had confided in me, I couldn't stay away from her. Not a day had passed (until my trip to Florida) that we did not hang out with each other, and if we weren't able to get together, there were constant texts back and forth between the two of us. It almost felt like we had grown closer over the last month, if that were even possible. I couldn't explain it, but I wanted to be next to her all the time. Whenever something happened, or I saw or heard something particularly funny, I had to share it with her immediately. At one point, I worried that I would begin to annoy her with my constant stream of texts and calls, but I convinced myself that she would let me know if I ever did.

I must have dozed off at some point because Felix shook me awake when we arrived at Abuela's house. We all piled out of the car and followed her through the door. Felix and Papi carried her luggage to her room as Mami stopped in the bathroom. I walked into the kitchen with Abuela and leaned against the counter, trying to wipe away the traces of sleep from my eyes.

"Santana, I don't want you getting any ideas."

I looked up at her, unsure if I'd missed the beginning of a conversation while trying to force myself awake. "Any ideas about what?"

She fixed me with a stern look that meant she was absolutely serious. "I saw the way you were with that baby. You have plenty of time to worry about family _after_ you get your education."

I laughed. "Abuelita, babies are the last thing on my mind right now."

"Maybe so, but I don't want to hear about you chasing after boys. You'll have time for boyfriends once you have finished college. They are nothing but trouble."

Abuela had quit school when she was thirteen to help her family make enough money to survive. I knew how much she valued a proper education, so I didn't try to come up with a snappy comeback. If she really knew what I'd gotten up to with Puck, she would have killed me and buried me in the back yard before my parents had a chance to walk into the kitchen.

"Not all guys are so bad," Felix said, walking up behind me and resting his arm across my shoulders.

"Don't get me started on your behavior." Abuela pointed her finger accusingly at him.

"What did I do?" Felix asked. I could tell he was scared of what she had found out.

"Your father told me who stayed at your place last week."

My brother tensed beside me, and I felt his arm drop from my shoulders. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I knew that he and his girlfriend took turns staying at the other's apartment. His friends from Northwestern had thrown him a huge party for his twenty-first birthday two nights before we left for our trip, and she must have stayed the night. All I know is that when he showed up at our house the day of our flight, he was still hungover.

"He wasn't supposed to say anything!"

I knew as well as Felix did that no one could ever keep something away from Abuela. More than likely she'd seen Felix looking like shit and gave Papi one look before he caved in to her demand for information.

She ignored his protest. "You stay away from those girls until you get your degree. Do you hear me?"

"Does that mean when I start my residency, you won't care if I hook up every now and then?"

I turned my head and stared at him. He should have known better than to give her a smart-ass answer. It appeared that he realized it too late when Abuela directed her glare at him.

"You'd better keep it in your pants until you have a respectable girl you're going to make your wife, Felix Alejandro Lopez! If I hear about you getting some poor girl pregnant, I will murder you in your sleep."

"I was just kidding, Abuelita. I'm a good boy. I haven't even kissed a girl." It was an obvious lie, but I kept my mouth shut. He knew enough about my extra-curricular activities to get me into some deep trouble with Abuela.

"Estás lleno de mierda," she said, turning and trying to hide her grin. Felix ran up to her and wrapped her in a bear hug.

"You know I'm your favorite grandchild, Abuelita. Don't deny it."

"Felix," Papi's voice boomed behind us, "let go of her before you crush her. She's not as young as she used to be."

Felix did as he was told and stepped away so that my parents could say goodbye to her. "I'm not too old to take the belt to you, Miguel."

"Ay, not the belt," Papi said, kissing his mother on the cheek.

"We'll see you on Sunday, Alma," my mother said.

I turned to leave with the others, but Abuela caught my wrist and held me back as my parents and brother left the house. She kissed my forehead before speaking. "I want the best for you, Santanita."

"I know."

"You are so smart. Don't let it go to waste."

"I won't. I promise, Abuelita."

Her eyes darted back and forth between mine as she held my cheeks in her hands. Her face was as serious as I'd ever seen it. "I love your brothers and your cousins," she said and then paused. "But God blessed me the day you were born when he answered my prayers for a granddaughter."

It was the most exposed my abuela had ever been with me, and I wasn't sure why she suddenly decided to open up. I just knew that in that moment, I vowed that I would do anything to make her proud of me. As quickly as it came, the moment was gone, and we kissed each other's cheek and said our goodbyes. After I climbed into the car, we were on our way home.

As soon as I walked in the door, I ran upstairs. I didn't want my parents making some weird request of me that would prevent me from calling Brittany right away. The phone was resting in its charger on my desk. My fingers were able to dial the number by memory while I walked across the room to close my door. It only took two long strides before I could leap onto my bed. My giddiness was eye-roll worthy, but I was too excited to care. I just knew that she would be so excited to hear about Michael.

"_Hello?"_ It was Brittany's dad.

"Hi, Joe. Is Brittany home?"

"_Hang on a sec."_ His muffled voice called for Britt. A few seconds later, I heard her voice.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, Britt-Britt!"

"_Oh. Hi.."_

I could feel myself grinning like an idiot. "I guess you haven't found your phone, huh?"

"_Um, no. Not yet."_

"We just got back. Do you want to come over?"

"_Um…"_ She hesitated as if she were searching for the right words. _"I'm actually…I think I'm sick."_

"Oh no. Is it, like, a cold or something?"

A cough came through the receiver. _"Yeah, I'm not feeling too good."_

My smile was replaced with a frown. Brittany rarely got sick. It sucked that it was happening during our summer. Especially after we hadn't been able to hang out in over a week. "Do you need me to bring you anything? I know you like those cherry lozenges."

"_I think we have some here."_

"Oh," I said, fighting hard to keep the disappointment from seeping into my voice. "Well, I guess you should get some rest, then."

"_Okay."_

"Call me when you feel better. We'll go out and do something. And I can tell you about how awesome Michael is."

"_Okay."_

There was nothing else I could think of to say to prolong the conversation. "Feel better, Britt-Britt."

"_Thanks. Bye, Santana."_

"Bye."

Reluctantly, I pressed the end call button. My body deflated. I wanted to hang out with her so badly. Not wanting to go downstairs, I dug through my dresser until I found something to sleep in. It wasn't particularly late, but I had nothing else to do. Since I wasn't meeting up with Brittany, exhaustion started to overtake me, and I crawled back into my bed. I'd set my iPod in its dock and closed my eyes when Amy Winehouse's _Back to Black_ album drifted through the speakers.

Felix left to go back to Northwestern two days later. My parents insisted that I get back on the SAT prep schedule the day after we came back from Miami, and after a few days, I desperately needed an escape. Being trapped in the house was making me stir crazy. Quinn was visiting her aunt and uncle in Atlanta, and there were no other Cheerios I wanted to hang out with. I knew Brittany must have been really sick for me not to have heard from her since that first phone call.

When lunchtime rolled around, I wandered into the kitchen to find something to eat. The pantry was fully stocked, and the section of canned goods gave me the inspiration I needed to break free of my boredom.

It was a well known fact in my house that Brittany loves my mother's chicken noodle soup. It was also a well known fact that chicken noodle soup is the famous remedy for cold symptoms (according to several television shows I'd seen as a child). And what better way to help her feel better than to bring her some? I'd helped Mami prepare it enough to understand what to do, and I set to work. Fortunately, we had most of the ingredients (save for one or two vegetables) and within an hour, I had enough to not only fill two thermoses for us to share but also enough for my family to eat dinner later that night. After I gave the kitchen a quick wipe-down, I grabbed the soup and ran to the bus stop located at the end of the block, eager to take it to Brittany's house.

It was extremely difficult not to skip up to her front door and even more difficult to keep myself from holding down the doorbell. Normally, I would just walk into their home if the door was unlocked, but I felt a little strange doing it since Brittany was so sick. I was a ball of nervous energy, which was weird because I'd been to her house literally hundreds of times. I almost toppled over from embarrassment when Carolyn opened the door.

"Oh, hi Santana! I didn't realize you were back already. Brittany's up in her room." She stood to the side and allowed me through the door.

I thanked her and quickly made my way up the stairs. I tried to be quiet in case she was sleeping. When I reached the landing, I could see that her bedroom door was slightly cracked. The muted sound of music was drifting into the hallway, and I crept closer. To say I was surprised when I peeked through her door would be an understatement. Brittany was wearing a pair of black sweatpants that had been cut off at the knee and a tight fitting purple tank. Her eyes were closed, and she was on her back, her yoga mat spread beneath her. I watched as she kept her legs perfectly straight, lifting them into the air and stretching them over her head until her toes rested on the floor beside her ponytail. Her shoulders kept her back perpendicular to the floor, and her arms were positioned on the floor behind her.

It felt like my chest was collapsing in on itself. I didn't understand what was going on. This was not normal Brittany behavior when she fell ill. My weight shifted, causing the floor to creak underneath my feet. When her eyes snapped open to meet mine, a look of panic crossed her face. Her back rolled back down the mat, and she scrambled to her feet.

"Santana…"

"What's going on? Are you still sick?"

She shut off the music and turned to face me with a sheepish expression. "I guess so."

I stepped into her room and looked around. "Why didn't you call me?"

Her hands fidgeted nervously, and she sat down on the bed. "I was going to. You know, later today."

I saw her glance at her bedside table. Her cell was on it. "You found your phone? Britt, what's going on?" I asked.

The look of panic on her face had not disappeared. She was refusing to meet my eye. Suddenly, the idea that my best friend had lied to me twice and was trying to avoid me crossed my mind, and the immense weight on my chest increased tenfold. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't understand what I might have done to upset her so much that she felt the need to ignore my calls and pretend to be sick. A thick lump formed in my throat. I couldn't think. I waited for Brittany to explain, but the silence lingered for almost a minute. Without a word, I set the thermoses on her desk and began to leave.

"Santana, wait!"

I stopped walking, but I didn't turn to face her. I heard the springs from her mattress squeak as she stood up. The soft padding of her feet behind me gave away her position, and I felt her fingers close around my wrist.

"I have to tell you something," she said quietly.

I felt her tug on my hand, and I finally lifted my eyes to meet hers. She looked apologetic, making my resolve crumble instantly. She walked us over to her bed and sat down. There seemed to be no other option for me than to join her when she didn't let go of my hand. I watched as she played with my fingers, seeming to draw courage from our contact.

"I haven't been calling you because I'm afraid you're going to be mad at me."

My voice was quiet when I responded. "Why?"

"I went to Andrew's party on Saturday because they were going to have fireworks," she started, keeping her eyes on our hands. "There were a lot of people there, and…I probably had too much to drink."

She'd told me that she was going to that party before she stopped texting me, so that information wasn't news to me. "Okay…"

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. It sounded shaky. Her eyes flicked up to mine. "I slept with Puck."

We stared at each other for a few seconds while my brain processed the new information. Whatever explanation I'd been expecting from her…that had not been it. I felt her squeeze my hand.

"You slept with Puck?"

Brittany bit her lip and nodded.

I pulled my hand from her grasp and stood. I couldn't describe what sort of state my emotions were in. I supposed that most girls would be pissed that their best friend had slept with their ex, but I didn't feel anger. I guess it was confusion. "Why?"

"We were both super drunk, and it started out with us kissing because I hadn't kissed him before, and I know it was wrong and I shouldn't have done it because he's your ex-boyfriend, but I wasn't thinking because there was _so_ much alcohol, and I know that's not an excuse, but it's the truth, and then the next thing I remember is that we were both naked in someone's room and then –"

Anger finally began to rise within me. "Wait, stop. You said, '_the next thing I remember_'. Did he force you into anything?"

Her eyes got wide. Immediately, she stood up and moved in front of me. "No," she insisted. "I was drunk, but I knew what I was doing, and I knew it was wrong the whole time, but I couldn't stop. I'm so sorry, Santana. Please don't hate me. It will never happen again, I swear."

I realized my fists were clenched and my breathing had gotten faster. I had to analyze my thoughts, but I wasn't upset with Brittany. I knew I should have been, but most of my displeasure was directed at Puck. The very idea that he could have taken advantage of her in her inebriated state was infuriating. Brittany was too trusting to get involved with a horn dog like Puck. "Are you okay?" I heard myself ask. "Have you gotten checked? Puck isn't consistent with – did you use a condom?"

"I think so."

I felt myself panic then. "Think? Brittany, we need to get you checked."

"I promise I'll go to a clinic. Just, please, don't be angry."

Worry was etched across her face. I was sure it mirrored my own, but for a completely different reason. Brittany was terrified that she'd lost our friendship. I was terrified that she'd contracted something or gotten pregnant.

"I could never be mad at you, Britt."

Her hands sought mine for reassurance. "Are you sure?"

Instead of answering, I pulled her in for a hug. Seconds later, her little sister burst through the door.

"Brittany, Mom says –"

I tried pulling away, but Brittany had her arms wrapped tightly around my waist and refused to let go. Ashley was gaping at us with her mouth wide open, and I started to squirm, uncomfortable with someone watching me show any sort of affection – especially when it was in a moment as private as the one I was sharing with Brittany.

Ashley glared at her sister. "Why didn't you tell me she was back?"

Brittany finally let me go to address her. "Because she doesn't want to hang out with a little snot like you."

"I'm not a snot, and yes, she does. Don't you S'tana?"

I didn't get a chance to reply. Ashley ran full speed into my side, hugging my legs with her little hands and head butting my stomach. "Oof. Shit," I wheezed.

Ashley jumped back and gasped. "You said a bad word!"

"What? No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did! Brittany, didn't she say a bad word?"

Brittany was trying to fight off her giggles. "I think she did, Ash."

"Now you have to put a quarter in the cuss jar," Ashley said.

"What the hell is a cuss jar?" I asked.

The little girl gasped again. "You said another one!"

"That is not a bad word," I defended.

Brittany's hand grabbed my elbow and slid down to clasp our hands together. "Actually," she whispered, "it counts in front of Ashley. Mom and Dad made the list."

"What is this cuss thing she's yammering on about?" I whispered back.

"Every time someone says a word on the list, you have to put money in the jar."

I looked back at her sister, who was looking up at me expectantly. "That's _two_ quarters you have to put in the jar now!" she reminded me.

I let go of Brittany's hand so I could kneel in front of her sister. "And what if I refuse to pay up?"

"You have to go in time-out. And you have to go longer because you said two bad words," she explained, though I could tell that I was shaking her confidence.

"What if I refuse to let you put me in time-out? What then, Squirt?"

She looked up at Brittany, clearly at a loss. It was obvious that no one had ever refused to follow the cuss jar rules in the Pierce household.

I heard Brittany speak from above. "Then you'll have to suffer the consequences."

I started to look up at Brittany. "What conse–"

My hands barely had time to brace my falling body before I hit the floor. Brittany's body collided with mine as she pinned me against her yoga mat. She was sitting on the top of my thighs, immobilizing my legs. I didn't have time to fight back because she grabbed my wrists and held them down above my head with one of her hands.

"Quick, Ash! You do that side, and I'll get this one."

It suddenly clicked in my brain what Brittany planned to do. "Brittany, no! Don't! I swear to god if you –"

My pleas were ignored as both of them relentlessly attacked my sides with their fingers. I screamed with laughter and kicked furiously to no avail. Brittany would not budge.

"Keep your fingers by her ribs, Ashley. That's where she's most ticklish. Yeah, right there. Good job!"

"Britt – Brittany…Stop…I'm begg–begging you…Ash…God, please just…Sssssstop!"

I couldn't breathe, and they were loving it. Ashley giggled maniacally while Brittany just grinned down at me. After what felt like hours, I heard Brittany tell her sister to stop. I sucked in deep breaths to allow my body to recover the oxygen it had been deprived.

"The key to the best tickling," Brittany explained, "is to stop to let them recover."

"Why?" Ashley asked.

"Because that way they think it's over and won't expect it when you start again!"

I felt her fingers back against my ribs, followed a split second later by Ashley's. Tears were streaming out of my eyes. My attempts to squirm out from under Brittany weren't working. She had always been stronger than me and never had a problem using it to her advantage. My legs were kicking frantically as I tried to buck her off of me. I guess we were making a lot of noise because less than a minute into the second tickling session, I heard Carolyn yell up the stairs.

"What are you girls doing up there?"

"Nothing!" Brittany and Ashley shouted.

"It doesn't sound like nothing to me! Ashley, if you're done making that racket you can come down and watch cartoons now. The tv is free. Your dad just left."

My eyes were too tired to open, and the floor shook as Ashley ran from the room, not needing any more persuasion. My entire body was exhausted from the effort of laughing and trying to fight off my attackers. Ragged breaths were going in and out of my chest. It felt like I had just run ten miles. I could feel Brittany leaning over me, her free hand joining the other that had been holding my wrists. Her fingers slid between mine, and I finally forced my eyes open.

"Did you learn your lesson?" she asked.

"Yeah," I gasped, still struggling for air. "Never open my mouth around Ashley again. I can't do it without swearing."

Brittany laughed, and even though I wanted to hate her for putting me through that torture, it was the sweetest thing I could have heard at that moment. The crushing force that had been squeezing my heart since I'd walked into her bedroom had finally loosened its grip, and I felt normal once more. Her expression suddenly turned serious as she moved her face inches from mine.

"Are we okay? You promise you're not mad at me?"

I knew she wasn't talking about the tickle attack. "Yeah, Britt. We're good."

Her smile was so big. And even though my cheeks were aching from laughing, I couldn't help but return it. "So are you hungry?" she asked.

"Actually, I brought you some soup because I thought you were sick. There's enough for both of us if you want it."

"Ooh, what kind is it?"

"Mami's chicken noodle."

Without warning, Brittany leapt off of me and hurried to the thermoses. "Don't get excited," I told her. "Mami didn't make it."

The way her face dropped was almost too adorable. "Oh."

"I made it," I said as I stood, shrugging and trying to downplay the effort I'd put into preparing the soup. "It's probably not as good, but it should be decent. Although, I'm not sure if you deserve it after that stunt you pulled with Ashley," I added.

With a thermos in each hand, Brittany leaned over and kissed my cheek. The patch of skin her lips touched felt like it had been set on fire. "You're sweet, but you totally deserved everything you got. Just be glad Mom interrupted us. It could have been much worse."

She kissed me once more on the cheek, and I prayed that she couldn't feel the heat that had remained on my skin when she did.

"Want to watch cartoons with Ash?"

Figuring an afternoon in front of the television was better than not being with her at all, I agreed. "As long as we don't have to watch SpongeBob. He creeps me the fuck out."

A jab to my ribs made me jump. "Watch your language, young lady."

I grabbed a thermos from her hand and followed her out of her room.

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

><p><strong>I am blown away by all of the reviews and messages that I've received. I am so appreciative of all the feedback you've given me and the alerts you've signed up for. <strong>Thank you so much! You guys are amazing.<strong>**


	5. Brittany's Hobby

I barely walked through the front door of Brittany's house before she grabbed my wrist and dragged me through the door on the left, leading me into the family den. When she called me thirty minutes before, I could tell she was about to burst from excitement about something, but seeing her in person made me even more curious. I knew better than to ask her about it again. She refused to tell me why she wanted me to come over. Of course, I never needed an excuse to visit her, but I played along.

"Guess what Dad found at the flea market yesterday?" she asked.

"A miniature treadmill for that tub of lard in the corner?" I guessed, closing the door to the den and pointing towards Lord Tubbington.

A small frown slid across her face. She spoke in a low voice. "Santana, you know he can't help it. Don't be so mean," she chastised. Then she turned toward the entertainment center and bent over to rummage through one of the cabinets. I couldn't help but notice the new pair of shorts she was wearing, and how awesome it made her ass look. Suddenly, she sprung up, grinning once again. I saw a familiar, although worn, DVD case in her hands. It was the first season of Sweet Valley High.

"Oh my god. I haven't seen that since we were, like, twelve."

"I know!" she squealed. "I remember watching all of the reruns on Nickelodeon. Let's watch it."

I noticed that she had already prepared the coffee table with a bowl of popcorn, a Dr. Pepper, and a diet Coke. Who was I to say no? And I've always been a sucker for taking trips down nostalgia lane. With a nod from me, Brittany turned back towards the entertainment center and popped in the DVD. I found the remote controls on the couch and plopped down beside them. Within seconds, she joined me, and we were singing along to the awful intro. Thirty seconds into the first episode, I could already tell the series wasn't nearly as interesting as we remembered it to be. The dialogue was cheesy, and the acting made us both crack up.

"These people are crazy if they think that their clothes don't make them look ridiculous."

Brittany spoke around a mouthful of popcorn. "Santana, this was made in the nineties. It looked good to them back then."

"There will never be any time or excuse where these clothes look good."

"I don't think Elizabeth's outfit is that bad."

I picked up my Coke and took a sip. "It looks like she snuck into Quinn's closet and stole her favorite cardigan."

Brittany just shrugged. "I think she's cute."

"Oh, gross."

"You can't deny it, Santana," she smirked. "I know that deep down you want to jump on Elizabeth's bones."

"Don't make me throw up on your couch," I said, throwing a handful of popcorn at her.

We giggled as Jessica attempted to show off her bitchiness. I continued to laugh at the awful hair and dresses. Despite having not seen the episode in years, Brittany was still able to recite dialogue like a pro. (Although she was much better with her delivery than any of the actors).

"Oh my god. Look at their dancing."

"I don't know, Brittany. You might be able to learn a thing or two if you pay attention," I teased.

"I feel like I'm becoming a worse dancer from watching this," she groaned.

"Don't you remember learning Elizabeth's and Winston's victory dance?"

The memory threw her into another fit of giggles. She clapped her hands together and looked at me. "Do you think you remember it?"

I took another sip of my Coke. "Probably not."

"Come on," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me up, "Let's see if I've still got it."

The Sweet Valley Homecoming committee president finally crowned Winston homecoming king. I couldn't stop laughing as Brittany acted in tandem with the boy on screen. The atrocious techno music signaled the beginning of the winner's dance. Brittany quickly pushed the coffee table against the entertainment center and jumped and twisted around, mimicking the moves on screen. She grabbed my hand and spun me towards her. It must have been muscle memory because the two of us had no trouble remembering the ridiculous flapping arm motions and junior high back-to-front grinding. Brittany's face was so serious, and my cheeks hurt from being stretched into a laugh for so long. Every once in a while she would catch my eye, and her lips would quirk, but she always snapped back into "Winston mode". When the final dip came, I felt her wrap her arms around my waist. I leaned back, trusting her to support my weight as she always had. My head was tossed back, and I could see the screen from my upside-down perspective. The crowd on the television cheered, and I saw the couple on screen walk away from one another.

A few seconds passed, and Brittany still had me in the dipped position. I raised my head to look at her. Her eyes were bright, her mouth quirked into a small smile. Before I could ask her what she was doing, she leaned down and kissed me.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. We hadn't kissed since my attempt at reassuring her at the beginning of summer. And only then, had I done it to try to provide some comfort to her. (And not because I'd wanted to. That would have been pretty gay.) I still hadn't forgotten how nice it felt to kiss her – how soft her lips were. (That didn't make me gay, did it? I can appreciate a nice kiss without being a lesbian.)

I slowly rose as she lifted me out of our dance's last position. Her arms were still wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me so close to her. I felt her mouth open against mine, and the arms I had wrapped around her shoulders slid around her neck, squeezing her tighter. At some point – I don't remember when – my eyes had closed, but I knew she was smiling. I could feel it against my lips.

Eventually, my curiosity in finding out what had come over my best friend got the better of me, and I pulled away. Brittany looked drunk, her lips parted and smiling. I giggled as I spoke.

"I don't remember _that_ happening after they won."

Her eyes flickered around my face. "Your lips looked delicious."

I tried to stop them, but my own eyes dropped to her mouth. "Is that so?"

She licked her lips and nodded. "Kissing is a lot more fun than that dance. They totally should have made out."

"Oh, gross. Winston is such a nerd," I said, scrunching my nose while I attempted to push her away. "I feel nauseous just thinking about it."

Brittany held tighter to me, and I felt myself being pushed towards the couch. I saw her lick her lips again. "I can fix that."

Suddenly I was lying on the couch, and Brittany was holding herself above me. I saw her lean down to kiss me again, and I got nervous. "W-What about the DVD?"

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "This show sucks, Santana. I thought you realized that."

"Yeah, but I thought you were excited about watching it."

"I was…"

My eyelids closed on their own when I felt her lips press against my neck. I wanted to kick myself when I heard what came out of my mouth next.

"But aren't you…Don't you like Sweet Valley?"

Brittany's head slowly lifted, and she locked her eyes with mine. There was a hint of a smile on her face. "Kissing is more fun though."

A breathy laugh escaped me. "You make it sound like it's a hobby."

"Why can't kissing be a hobby?" she asked and then pecked me quickly. "Isn't a hobby something you like to do?"

"I guess."

"Well," she started and kissed me just a tad longer this time, "I like kissing, so it's a hobby of mine." Another kiss. "And you're turning into my favorite project."

I couldn't help looking at the closed door. My hesitation and unease caught Brittany's attention, and I felt her begin to sit up.

"I'm sorry, Santana. I shouldn't have assumed that you wanted to do that."

As nervous as I was about getting caught, I also didn't want to stop. "Wait, Brittany."

She looked between us and saw my hands holding her wrist. I pulled her back down. I hoped against hope that she didn't notice how clammy my hands were or how badly they were shaking. "I – We don't have to stop," I said. "Because I liked – _like_ – kissing you too."

We spent the rest of the afternoon making out on her couch. And the afternoon after that. And the afternoon after that. When her dad found bootleg copies of the other three seasons of Sweet Valley in another Flea Market later that week, we had our perfect excuse for closing ourselves off in the den or our bedrooms. Any time the anxiety I felt when I realized kissing my best friend dominated my thoughts from the moment I woke up until the moment I fell asleep started to creep up, I found a way to become busy to push those thoughts from my mind. It felt too good when I was with her, and I decided that if Brittany was fine with it, so was I.

A few days after the Fourth of July, we were right in the middle of another afternoon makeout session in Brittany's room. I'd grown comfortable and confident enough from recent events to finally allow myself to lie on top of her. I managed to push aside any reservations I'd had in order to take a little bit of control. Brittany was very accommodating, and I think she even enjoyed taking the backseat for once. It felt very strange, but I decided pretty quickly that I really liked being on top.

We hadn't been kissing for very long when we were interrupted by Brittany's phone. She tried reaching for it without stopping our kiss, but her hand fumbled beside us on the bed, unable to locate it. I felt her pull away to look for it, but I refused to move and kept kissing her neck. She laughed.

"Santana, it's Mom. I have to get it."

"Call her back later."

Another laugh bubbled out of her, and she pushed my head away playfully with her free hand. I propped my chin on my hand and watched as she spoke with her mom. The conversation was short, Brittany's side mostly filled with _okay_'s and _yeah_'s and _uh-huh_'s. When she hung up, she lifted her head to give me a quick kiss and tried to move away. I stayed on top of her.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Mom needs me to pick up Ashley from her gymnastics studio. She's stuck in a line at the grocery store."

I tried thinking of a way to get Brittany out of it when I remembered that her older sister had come back from Ohio State for the Fourth. "Why can't Sarah do it?"

"She left to go back to Columbus this morning. I think she had some sorority something to do tomorrow."

I was disappointed, but I tried not to let it show. "What time do you have to be there?"

"Her class is over at four."

I glanced at the clock. It said 3:10, so I pressed my lips against her neck and mumbled, "That means we still have almost an hour."

I felt the vibrations of her laugh through my kisses. I didn't expect Brittany to push me off of her, and I yelped when I felt myself flip over. Her hands were pressing into the mattress beside each side of my ribs to hold her body above me. Her face was set in what I knew she thought was a stern expression, but I could tell that she was amused.

"Now, Santana. I have to fulfill my duties as a good daughter and good big sister and go and pick up Ashley from gymnastics. It's going to take a while to get over there. You can come with me if you want, but you can't keep me here. What's it going to be?"

I felt her hand move against my left side, poised to start a tickle attack as if she were afraid I would try to pin her down again. I squirmed away from her hand. "Okay, okay. I'll go with you."

A few minutes later, we were on our way to the studio, which was located right on the outskirts of the Pierce's neighborhood. While we were walking, my phone started ringing. I glanced at it and saw that it was Puck. He'd already called me three times earlier in the day. I answered it just so he would stop bothering me.

"Hello?"

"_Why the hell are you ignoring my calls?"_

"What do you want Puck?" I was already regretting my decision to talk to him.

"_What are you and Brittany doing tonight?"_

"If this is another one of your attempts to coerce us into one of your sick threesome fantasies, you can forget –"

"_As much as I would _love_ having you two ladies in my bed, I have other business to discuss. Mike wants to throw Brittany a surprise party for her birthday tonight. It's kind of a last minute thing. He's gonna do it if you can bring her to his house."_

I glanced at Brittany. She was smiling and looking at me out of the corner of her eye, probably because she knew all about Puck's disgusting attempts at trying to bed us together. I didn't want to let her in on what Puck was really asking, so I tried speaking as vaguely as possible.

"But it's not until next week. Why so early?"

"_Because his dad took his mom on some Chinese vacation or something. I don't know."_ I rolled my eyes at the mildly offensive racial stereotyping. _"And his little sister is staying with his grandparents while they're gone. It's like, the perfect setup for a killer party. Besides, it's a _surprise _party. That's the point of doing it early. It's unexpected and shit. He wants to start around eight."_

"I don't get it. Why is he even interested?"

"_Because he's interested in getting into her pants."_

My jaw clinched. I wanted to believe it was because of Puck's insensitivity. "Could you be more crude?"

"_Look, are you coming or not?"_

"I'll think about it."

"_Santana –"_

"I'll text you later," I said and hung up before he could argue.

We walked for a little while longer before Brittany's curiosity took over.

"What was that about?" she asked.

Honestly, I thought any party without parental supervision sounded awesome. I hadn't been to one since before school let out. And who needed a better excuse to drink and let loose a little? "Mike's having a party tonight, and Puck wants us to come," I said.

"Do you want to go?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I'll go if you go."

"What time does it start?"

"Mike said to be there at eight."

"Let's do it."

When we arrived at the studio, I hung back in the lobby to text Puck to tell him that we would go while Brittany walked farther in to see if her sister's class was over. I stood in front of the picture window of the studio and watched as a few cars drove past. I had only been standing there a minute before I felt arms wrap around me from behind and a chin rest on my shoulder. Brittany's voice was quiet as she spoke.

"They're almost done."

I turned my head and smiled at her. Brittany leaned forward and kissed my mouth. I jumped back in surprise and shoved her away from me. My eyes darted around the room to see if anyone noticed. The only people in the lobby besides the two of us were a mother and son who were waiting for the class to dismiss. Both were too caught up in a picture book to notice us. I looked back at Brittany. My heart sank a little when I saw the confused expression on her face, but I was too panicked to do anything about it.

"Brittany," I hissed, looking back at the mother and son, "What are you doing?"

I saw her glance over at the pair before turning back to me. "What do you mean?"

I stepped closer to her to keep our conversation between the two of us. "You can't just do _that_."

"Kiss you?"

I shushed her and looked around. We were still going unnoticed. "Keep your voice down."

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

"You can't kiss me here," I whispered. "We can't do that. We just can't."

"Why not?"

"Because people will think we're a bunch of lesbians, Brittany."

"But we do it all the time," she argued. "I don't see what –"

"What we do at home doesn't matter. We can't do that in public."

My face was getting hot, and I could feel myself growing frustrated. Brittany looked hurt, but I was too embarrassed to care. I had to make her understand. She looked back towards the mother and son and then back to me. I could tell she didn't quite understand why I was so upset.

"_Please_, Brittany. It's just not acceptable to other people for us to do that other stuff."

"It shouldn't matter what other people think," she said in a small voice.

"But it does," I insisted. I was trying to keep the frustration out of my voice, but I was failing miserably. "Please don't do that again."

Brittany opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted when Ashley ran into the lobby and barreled herself into her older sister. "Where's Mom?"

Brittany's eyes never left mine. I could tell she wanted to keep talking about our argument, but to my relief, she dropped it. "She's stuck at the grocery store."

"I'm hungry."

Brittany finally looked at her sister. "You have to wait until we get home."

"Mom always has a snack when I'm done."

"Do I look like Mom?"

If I hadn't been so upset, I might have laughed. Brittany favored their mother more than any of her sisters. But I wasn't in the mood for laughing, and Ashley just huffed and started walking through the doors. We followed her, but I didn't turn in the direction of their house. Brittany looked at me curiously.

"I'm going to go home to get ready for the party," I said.

"Aren't you coming over to mine?"

She and I had gotten ready together for every party we'd attended since junior high, but I couldn't bring myself to follow her home after our fight. "I'll meet you at Mike's," was all I said before I turned and walked away.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Sorry for the long wait. Life has been surprisingly busy. Thank you to all the reviewers and subscribers. I hope everyone is doing well!<strong>**


	6. Winning the Bet

I had to text Puck to pick me up for Mike's party. Under normal circumstances, I would not have asked him for a favor, but I had no other way of going. I knew my mother wouldn't take me to a party without supervision, let alone even allow me to attend one, so I had to make up an excuse. The best one that came to mind was lying about a date with Puck. And thanks to him failing the third grade and being an entire year older than the rest of the sophomore class, Puck had his own vehicle and was able to swing by my house before driving to Mike's.

I said a quick goodbye to my parents when I saw his truck pull up in our driveway. As I walked towards him, he rolled down his window to speak to me.

"I thought you said Brittany was coming!"

I rolled my eyes and walked around the front of the old truck and climbed into the passenger seat. I didn't respond until after I closed the door. "I'm not her keeper."

He looked at me skeptically. "You two are practically attached at the damn hip. It's just weird seeing one of you without the other."

I wanted to ask him if he thought that when he had sex with her a few weeks ago, but I resisted. Getting into another argument wouldn't have helped my mood. "She had to watch her sister until her mother got back from the store," I said, figuring that a babysitting excuse was decent cover for the truth. "She'll be there later."

"Good," he said as he shifted into reverse to back down the driveway, "because the surprise party would have fucking sucked if the birthday girl decided not to show."

Mike's family lived on the other side of my neighborhood, so it only took a few minutes for Puck to drive us there. As soon as he parked, I got out and made my way to the front door, not bothering to wait for him. Before I could reach for the doorknob, it opened, and I looked up to see Mike smiling widely. He had the decency to hide his disappointment upon not seeing Brittany standing next to me. I explained where Brittany was, and he stepped aside to welcome me into his house.

The entire downstairs was practically an open space. From the front entryway, I could see the living room, kitchen, dining room, and the small hallway leading to what I assumed held doors to the bathroom and garage. There were stairs leading up to the second floor on the far side of the living room, but Mike had roped it off to more than likely try to control the party damage that was inevitably sure to come.

There were already quite a few people milling about, and I could see that the majority of them were sophomores. My eyes were scanning the room for the drink area, and I saw Matt Rutherford setting up a few shot glasses on the kitchen island. Because the kitchen was slightly raised from the rest of the downstairs, it overlooked the entire rest of the floor, making it the perfect spot to dispense the drinks.

I made my way across the room and stepped into the kitchen. Matt looked up from his arrangement and smiled at me. It was a shy smile, and I thought it was kind of cute that he'd always been nervous around me – ever since junior high.

"Hey, Santana."

"Hi, Matt. What's on tap tonight?"

With another shy smile, he swept his arm towards his right, showcasing the various bottles of liquor lined up along the granite countertop. There was a cooler full of ice and beer on the floor and beside his organized cups and glasses sat a few bottles of juice.

"This is very impressive Mr. Rutherford," I said as I slinked around the island. I let my fingers slide over a few of the shot glasses and looked up to him. "Want to take a few shots with me to get this party started?"

His grin was wide. "Pick your poison."

I smiled back at him as I turned towards the bottles of rum and vodka. I saw Jose Cuervo in the back and reached for it. Before I could pour out our shots, Matt put his hand over mind to stop me.

"If you're into tequila, I've got something you might like a little better."

I screwed the cap back on the bottle and watched him curiously as he bent to reach inside the island's cabinets. When he stood back up, I immediately recognized the bottle he held, having seen my father's preference for it many times. My eyes were wide in appreciation as I set the Cuervo back on the counter.

"Getting fancy with the Don Pilar. I knew we were friends for a reason."

He winked at me and filled up four glasses. We clinked them together, one in each hand, before downing them both – one after the other. There was no chaser ready, so I suffered through the burn until I could sip some of the cranberry juice I managed to pour into one of the Solo cups. It wasn't the best chaser, but it did its job. I poured a bit more into my cup and topped it off with some vodka.

I stayed beside the drinks with Matt for a while. I wasn't aware of how much time had passed (or how much I'd actually had to drink) until I heard a loud cheer. I saw Brittany walk through the door with a huge grin on her face, Mike leading her by the hand. She was wearing those same shorts she'd bought when we watched Sweet Valley in her den. Her favorite pink short-sleeve button up was undone, revealing a white tank underneath. She looked beautiful.

Someone started singing _Happy Birthday_, and everyone chimed in enthusiastically. Everyone except for me. I was still feeling like an ass from earlier that afternoon. Guilt was welling up inside me for how insensitive I'd been to Brittany, despite my legitimate embarrassment and paranoia of being seen. And I knew that when I drank, I was never able to hide my emotions. They always came bursting out in the worst and most exaggerated way. My pride wasn't ready for me to admit that I was sorry for what had happened earlier, so I avoided greeting Brittany. I knew she would make her way towards the drinks before long, so I searched the room looking for an escape. I spotted Quinn and Puck in the dining room, and I excused myself from Matt.

Puck was leaning on his arm, which was propped up on the wall beside Quinn's head. He had that stupid flirtatious smirk on his face as she spoke. I didn't realize how tipsy I really was until I started walking. The room was tilting slightly, and I had to walk very slowly to prevent myself from falling over. Both of them noticed my strange strut, and Puck actually laughed at me. I swore at him, but he just laughed some more.

"I had some shots," I explained to Quinn.

There was an amused smile on her face. "I can see that."

Puck stood up straight and wiggled his empty beer bottle. "I'm going to get another beer. You ladies need anything?"

Quinn shook her head, and I held up my cranberry and vodka to show him it was almost full. When he walked away, I turned back to Quinn.

"Was he bothering you? He had his asshole face on when I walked up."

She smiled and shook her head again. "Nah. He's harmless."

"Where's Finnocence?" I asked.

"He's at home sick," she said, leaning up against the wall. "He tried going into detail about it on the phone, but I hung up before he could get very far into it."

"Gross."

"I know."

"So why aren't you drinking? Are you afraid God will smite you?"

She rolled her head against the wall to look at me. "I think you're building a better case for destruction than I am tonight."

I raised my glass in acknowledgment, and she laughed.

"No, I'm just trying to avoid stumbling in my house when I get home," she explained. "Daddy would probably ground me until I graduated."

I scoffed. "Oh, please. Like the hypocrite doesn't consume a bottle of scotch a day."

Quinn shrugged. "He can do it legally."

"Why don't you try some of mine," I said, holding my cup up to her nose.

I watched as she cautiously sipped it. Her nose scrunched, and she pushed it away. "Holy crap, Santana. How much did you put in that?"

I sniffed my drink, but I couldn't smell anything. I took another gulp. "Not much."

"My ass."

"Let me make you something else then."

"No way."

"Come on, Quinn," I pleaded. "You deserve to cut loose a little. I won't put enough in there to make you drunk. Only enough to get you a little tipsy. You tell me what you want."

Her eyes studied me for a moment. "I could go for some orange juice, I guess."

"I know just the thing. Here, hold this," I said, handing her my drink and quickly walking back to the kitchen. Matt had abandoned his post beside the island, and everything was already in chaotic disarray. I managed to find a clean cup and a bottle of coconut rum. I was very careful not to put too much into her orange juice because I did want her to actually drink it. I accidentally filled it a little too full, so I walked really slowly back to her. I kept my eyes on the liquid in the cup, being mindful not to spill any of it. The way I was walking must have looked ridiculous because she was laughing when I got back.

"You shouldn't try to act sober when you're drunk," Quinn said as she took her drink from my hand. "because you're terrible at it."

"I'm _not_ acting. I was trying not to spill your drink, you ungrateful bitch."

"Everyone already knows you're not sober, Santana," she laughed.

"Just shut up and drink. How is it?"

She sipped her drink carefully (because it _was_ really full) and nodded in approval. "It's good. You didn't drown me with the rum. Thank you."

I couldn't stop the proud smile that appeared on my face.

Quinn and I kept to ourselves for the next forty minutes and only went back for refills once. We talked about our upcoming year on the varsity Cheerio squad and how excited we were to be promoted from the JV squad. Quinn said that Coach Sylvester had been hinting at the possibility of her taking over the Head Cheerio spot because that cow Amanda Burkhead got too fat for her uniform after Spring Break last year. I was a little jealous that Coach Sylvester would overlook me in favor of Quinn because I didn't think she had anything that made her a better candidate for Head Cheerio than I did, but I decided not to let it bother me. I knew that with the full academic course load my father had me sign up for next year, I would be busy enough trying to keep my head above the water. Being in charge of the squad would only sink me further. I had to take baby steps before I could climb to the top.

"So what's the deal with you and Brittany?"

I felt my heart skip a beat. There was no way that she could have known about our afternoon activities together unless Brittany had told her, but I was sure that she hadn't. "What do you mean?"

She nodded her head towards the far side of the living room. I followed her gaze and saw Brittany dancing with Mike and Puck and some other no names from our class. "I haven't seen you two speak to each other all night."

I tore my eyes away from her when guilt flooded my stomach. "We kind of fought earlier today. I think she's mad at me." That last bit was a lie, but I didn't want to tell Quinn what an ass I'd been. I still had my pride, after all.

"About what?"

I scuffed my shoe against the spotless hardwood floor. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"You two are best friends. What could you have done to make her mad at you?" Her narrowed eyes were watching my unusually quiet behavior. Suddenly, they widened, almost comically. "Oh my god, it's about Mike isn't it? Both of you like him."

My head snapped up. "What? Don't be ridiculous."

"Then what is it? It's weird seeing the two of you not speaking."

I sighed. "Can we please just drop it?"

She shrugged and gave in to my request. I looked into my empty cup. At that point, I was ready for another drink, but Quinn decided that she'd had enough for the night, so I walked back to the kitchen for just one more drink. The room was spinning a lot faster as I walked, and I ran my hand along the wall for a little support. Luckily, Matt had returned to the makeshift bar, and he offered to fill my cup for me. I thanked him with a hug and started making my way back towards Quinn. I was so focused on keeping my balance and not spilling my drink that I didn't notice Brittany standing beside her until I almost ran into her. I gulped down half my drink before she took it out of my hands and set it on the dining room table, which had been pushed against the far wall.

"That's mine," I mumbled.

"It looks like you're a little past your limit," Brittany said. The corners of her mouth were turned slightly upward in a small smile. Quinn was stifling a giggle behind her hand.

"I'm not _that_ drunk," I tried to defend myself.

Brittany reached over to pat me on the back, but I dodged it. I recognized the fleeting look of hurt I'd seen earlier, and I felt myself close up. If I were to lose control of my emotions here, I'd be the laughing stock of McKinley.

Brittany's voice was soft. "Santana…"

"We're fighting," I reminded her. Quinn watched us from her spot against the wall.

"It's stupid. And it's my birthday." Her lips pouted, and her pinky found mine.

"Your birthday isn't until Sunday," I said.

Brittany changed the subject. "Did you know about the party?"

"I was the one who told you about it, remember?"

"I meant the birthday surprise part of it," she said.

I shrugged. "I guess. But I didn't plan it or anything." Immediately, I felt stupid for saying that. I felt like a shit friend for not having thought of it first.

Brittany just grinned at me like I was the best person in the world. I didn't understand why. I was absolutely awful to her just a few hours earlier. But Brittany had always been the first to forgive in her relationships. She always took the role of peacekeeper.

"So, does this mean you two have kissed and made up?" Quinn asked with a smirk.

I cringed at her word choice. It was meant to be internal, but I felt my face scrunch anyway. Brittany saved me from answering.

"There's nothing to make up, Quinn. We're not fighting or anything."

"But Santana just told me –"

"We were practicing for that play we're in," Brittany explained. "My mom's making us do it because Ashley's Girl Scout troop doesn't have enough people or something."

Brittany has always been the worst liar, but the grin on my face was wide. I saw Quinn's eyes dart between us. I knew she was trying to figure out what was going on between us, but I knew (with a sense of relief) that she would never be able to put _all_ the pieces in place. I felt Brittany tug my pinkie towards her, and soon I was wrapped in her arms in a tight hug. I didn't hesitate wrapping my own arms around her neck. I probably squeezed her a little harder than I should have in my intoxicated state, but I was so thankful that she wasn't mad at me for what I'd done. I was still terrified that someone would discover what we'd been doing because I was terrified about what that would do to the two of us. I knew teenagers were cruel because _I_ was one of those cruel teenagers. I wasn't proud of it, but I felt like it was the best way to protect myself.

The strawberry scent of her shampoo flooded my nose, and I breathed it in deeply. She smelled so good. Brittany whispered an apology so that only I could hear her. My head turned towards her neck, and I nodded and squeezed her tighter, hoping that she understood that I was sorry too. When she told me she thought fighting sucked, I smiled and pressed a kiss into her neck. I was glad her hair curtained my face. I didn't need Quinn shooting me more questioning looks.

Brittany began pulling away, and I was reluctant to let go. She must have known we'd been hugging for longer than friends should, though. I wasn't ready to give up contact with her, so I wrapped my arm around her waist as she faced Quinn once more. I hoped that I could make myself look like I was using her for support and balance rather than look clingy and needy. Quinn didn't seem to notice.

The two of them talked about the cheerleading camp we would be attending at the end of the month, and I tuned out of the conversation. My forehead somehow ended up resting on Brittany's shoulder. I could still smell her shampoo, along with the clean detergent smell from her clothes. Whenever she moved, I got a whiff of her perfume. I wanted to bury myself in the smell of _her_. The same smell that surrounded me when we kissed on her couch, and an overwhelming urge to lean up and kiss her came over me. I was snapped out of my Brittany bubble when I felt someone grab my arm. I turned to face the prick, a scowl firmly planted on my face. It was Puck.

"Santana, I don't have time to explain, but I need a _huge_ favor from you."

"Fuck off," I said.

"Please, Santana," he begged. "I made a bet with Azimio. He's in the bathroom, so he doesn't know I'm talking to you. He's going to come over here in just a second, and you have to go along with what he says and you _can't_ tell him that I was talking to you."

I scoffed. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because I'll do anything you want me to if you'll just help me win this bet." He glanced over his shoulder to look for Azimio and then turned back to me. "Please, Santana."

Brittany shifted beside me, but I kept holding on to her. "What's the bet about?" she asked.

"Okay, don't get pissed but –"

"That's the wrong thing to start an explanation with, Puck," I warned.

I could tell he was getting impatient. "I told him that you and Brittany used to come over to my place and make out –"

I felt my knees buckle. "You what!?"

He didn't stop. "– and that it was mega hot, and he doesn't believe that you actually did that –"

"Because we didn't!"

"– so I bet him that you'd prove it."

"Why the fuck would I help you when you say shit like that?" I yelled at him.

He looked back over his shoulder and tried to shush me with his hands. I slapped them away and glared at him. "Because I get twenty bucks for every minute you'll kiss her, and I'll do anything you want. I swear to God, Santana. I'll do _anything_ if you'll just help me win this bet against 'Z, and I'll split the money with you."

The door to the bathroom started to open, and Puck darted away before I could say no. I watched as he ran across the room so that Azimio wouldn't know he'd been trying to coerce me into helping him.

"What an asshole!"

I could feel myself starting to shake when I saw Azimio and Puck start to walk towards us. Brittany was rubbing my arm, and she leaned down to whisper in my ear. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, Santana. You don't owe anything to Puck."

I didn't know what I wanted to do. I was frozen in place, stuck staring at the two boys as they walked up to the three of us. I felt bile rise up in my throat as Azimio leered at Brittany and me. My anger rose at the self-righteous smirk on his face, and I wanted to strangle Puck when he mouthed _please_ behind Azimio's back.

"Hello, ladies," Azimio greeted. None of us replied. I looked at Quinn, and she looked almost as disgusted as I felt.

"Puck here tells me that the two of you," he says, pointing to me and Brittany, "partake in a particularly sexy activity when you hang out at his place. I call bullshit, because there's no way two girls as fine as yourselves would waste their time making out in front of a loser like Puckerman."

Puck shoved Azimio hard in the shoulder. I felt Brittany's arm hold me closer against her.

"But," he continued, "he swears he's telling the truth. If he is, I'm sure you won't mind helping to convince me otherwise."

My heart was beating rapidly. I couldn't break my staring contest with Azimio, but I could feel Puck, Quinn, and Brittany watching me to see what I would do. A million thoughts were running through my head, and I was trying to decide whether or not winning this bet for Puck would ostracize me from the student body or catapult me deeper into the popularity hall of fame. Azimio didn't seem repulsed by the idea, so I decided to take a risk.

"Sorry, but we don't do public shows," I sneered. I hugged Brittany tighter to prevent everyone from seeing my hands shake.

His eyes widened in surprise at my admission, and he looked back to Puck for a few seconds. Clearly, he was expecting me to deny Puck's story. I glanced at Puck. He was trying to contain his surprise as well. Azimio finally turned back towards us with a bigger grin than before.

"So, you admit that you and Brittany have kissed?"

"Duh. We already kissed that that party last semester," Brittany interjected.

"Lots of girls kissed in that game. It doesn't mean that they're into a little lesbian lovin' like you two."

My stomach sank. I panicked that I had made the wrong decision. My inebriated brain couldn't find a snappy retort, but Quinn saved me.

"They're not lesbians, you idiot."

"I wasn't implying that they were," he defended. "There's absolutely nothing wrong in my book if two hot girls want to mack a little bit."

Relief washed over me when he said that because I knew then that no one would think less of me if they believed that Brittany and I kissed each other for Puck. And for the first time, I realized that if I agreed to go through with this ridiculous situation, I would be able to kiss Brittany right then, like I'd wanted to earlier. I reasoned that people would assume we'd been drinking, and we were just two attractive girls putting on a show for the boys. I turned to Brittany. She looked worried, so I smiled in reassurance. My body finally stopped shaking when my hand slid into hers. She looked at them questioningly, then looked back to me. I nudged her shoulder with mine.

"Santana, if you're not comfortable…" she whispered.

I ignored her and grabbed her other hand to pull her towards me. Just before I kissed her, a small smile appeared on her lips, and I couldn't help but smile in return. Her kiss was soft and slow. I felt too relaxed from my drinks, so she led the kiss. I was content to move my lips in response to what she did. Her strawberry smell surrounded me again. My hands reached up to either side of her face, and I pulled her closer against me. Brittany's mouth opened, and her teeth pulled on my top lip gently. I think I might have moaned a little, and I definitely know that my fingers spread through her hair.

Her body was so warm. I didn't realize she'd had her hands around my waist until I felt them slide away. One traveled to my lower back. The other fell a little lower – its fingers grazing the swell of my ass. I could feel her thumb playing with the hem of my shirt. She was teasing me, and it was working. I swiped my tongue across her parted lips, unable to handle the feeling of her thumb brushing against my skin, and she allowed me to taste the inside of her mouth. She was chewing spearmint gum, and the coolness of its flavor spread onto my tongue. When her tongue pressed mine back into my mouth, my hands trailed from her neck to her ribs. I accidentally brushed against her boobs, and Brittany pressed herself further into me.

As she continued to deepen our kiss, I slipped my hands underneath her overshirt. My fingers spread out over her ribs, and I stroked my palms up and down her sides. She was breathing harder, and I might have accidentally (not accidentally) slid my hands up a bit too far. The pads of my thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts. I felt her hand squeeze my ass in response. Feeling emboldened by the alcohol in my blood, I dragged them back down to the hem of her tank top to lift it up. I sighed when I felt her smooth skin. Both of my hands clutched her back when she bit down on my bottom lip. Her tongue smoothed over the bite, and I let my fingers resume their path up and down her exposed sides.

In all of our makeout sessions, we'd never tried to push it this far. Every once in a while, a piece of skin would become exposed from our shuffling, but we'd always given each other feather light touches. Never before had we purposely driven our hands under clothing. It was obvious I'd been denying myself something amazing because Brittany's skin was warm and soft and perfect. I suddenly wanted to push our boundaries further. I tried dipping my fingers underneath the back of her bra.

"Santana…" Brittany's voice was breathy against my lips.

I felt her hands wrap around my elbows as I slid my fingers towards the front of her chest. Her hands gripped me harder and started to pull my arms down.

"Santana." Her voice was firmer this time.

She managed to wrap her hands around mine and broke the kiss to get my attention. My brows furrowed in confusion. Her eyes were wide, trying to tell me something silently, but I didn't understand. Both of us were breathing heavily. I didn't want to stop. That is, until I heard Azimio's voice.

"That wasn't a full four minutes, though."

The color drained from my face when I realized I'd once again gotten lost in Brittany's kiss while at a party. I looked towards Puck and Azimio and was mildly horrified to see that our audience had grown to include Matt, Mike, Azimio's friend Karofsky, and one of the idiot Puckheads from the hockey team. Thankfully, the group of boys' attention was on the argument in front of them instead of on the two of us.

"But it was almost four minutes!" Puck argued. "You should still give me the eighty bucks!"

"That wasn't the bet. Sixty is all you get."

When I looked at Quinn, I saw that she was watching us curiously. I could tell she was trying to decipher what she had just witnessed between us. I was so thankful that Brittany had decided to wear that pink button up because it shielded my hands' activities from everyone in the room. If they'd seen what I'd been doing…

My mouth suddenly felt dry, and I stepped away from Brittany to avoid any more of her scrutiny. She kept the space between us but leaned over to whisper in my ear, "Are you okay?"

I looked at her, and then I looked back at the boys in front of us to find that Puck was the only one still there. He looked very pleased as he sauntered up to us. The money he'd just won from Azimio was being waved in the air. A huge shit-eating grin was plastered on his face.

"That was the performance of a lifetime, girls. I was hoping you'd help me, but none of us were expecting _that_."

I didn't like the way he was turning this into a giant spectacle. Anger started bubbling within me at him for putting me in the situation in the first place. Embarrassment and lingering arousal jumbled my thoughts, and all I could do was lash out.

"Just hand over the damn money and leave us alone."

Puck nodded and made a big deal of counting out the sixty dollars, which was stupid because Azimio had handed him three twenty dollar bills. It wasn't difficult to split the winnings. He reached out to hand me one of the twenties, and I snatched the other forty out of his hand.

"Hey! That's my half!"

I shook my head at him like I pitied him. (And I did because he was stupid if he thought forty dollars was half of sixty.) "No, you see Puck, I'm taking our share," I said, pointing at myself and Brittany. "If it wasn't for Brittany, you wouldn't have won anything, so she deserves _half_."

He watched helplessly as I handed her one of the twenty dollar bills and stuck the other in my bra. A frown covered his face, but he didn't argue. We watched him open his wallet and shove his share into it before folding it and putting it back in his pocket.

"At least you have twenty more dollars than when you started," Brittany offered.

He scowled at her and turned to leave.

"Hey Puck," I called. "I'll be in touch about the favor you owe me. Stay on your toes."

I heard Quinn laugh beside us when he shot us a bird without looking back. I looked back over to Brittany. "Happy early birthday, Britt."

She hugged me again and whispered. "Best. Birthday. Ever."


	7. Cheering at Camp

I was fortunate enough to wake up without a hangover the morning after Brittany's Surprise Party. Unfortunately, however, my parents discovered what I'd been up to while there via a drunk text I'd intended to send to my cousin. Instead, it found its way to my mother's phone. That text, coupled with the fact that I'd been neglecting my online SAT prep course was the reason I was grounded until our cheer camp started the last week of July. I could only use my laptop to study my SAT guide and complete the online practice tests while they were home. I was not allowed to leave the house or use my phone. They allowed me one five minute phone call to Brittany to explain my situation. After that, they confiscated it. As much as it sucked to be isolated for over two weeks, I was surprised that I wasn't grounded longer. My father was very disappointed when they confronted me at breakfast. When I tried to protest, he told me that if I didn't catch up with my study schedule, he'd keep me from our cheer camp. Coach Sylvester would have a shitfit if I didn't go, and I'd be kicked off the Cheerios for sure. There was no way I was willing to risk that happening, so I kept my mouth closed and didn't argue.

I made sure to adhere to the strict schedule for my online course. I caught up on all of the days that I'd missed by the time Sunday rolled around. When one of Papi's fellow surgeons had to miss work for a family emergency, he filled in. Because of his work obligation, Mami and I were the only ones getting ready for church that morning. It was routine to pick up Abuela on our way, and on the second Sundays of the month, she always wanted to attend the Spanish mass in the afternoon. (I never protested this because it meant I could sleep later than I was usually allowed.) This particular second Sunday was a little different than the others because: one – it was Brittany's birthday – and two – I was grounded, which meant I wouldn't be able to spend it with her.

I knew that with Papi gone, I had a better chance of convincing my mother to let us stop by the Pierce's before driving to Abuela's house so that I could give Brittany my gift. I pulled the most pathetic face I could manage while I talked to her in the kitchen, and the wonderful woman agreed that I could run in to give Brittany her present ("But no longer than ten minutes," she'd said). I tried not to look too excited as I dashed upstairs to retrieve the wrapped box. A few minutes later, we were in the Highlander headed for Brittany's house.

Mami pulled up in the driveway of the Pierce residence and got out with me to ensure that I didn't take too long. Joe answered the door, and as he welcomed us inside, he told me that Brittany was in her room taking what he called "her annual birthday nap". As quietly (and quickly) as I could, I raced up the stairs until I got to her bedroom door. It wasn't closed all the way, and I could see her lying face first in her pillows. I slipped inside her room and carefully sat down beside her on the bed. She must have felt the mattress shift because she turned her head groggily towards me. It took a few seconds for her to register who I was, but she sat up comically when she realized it was me.

"Santana! I thought you were grounded," she said as she gave me a huge bear hug.

"I convinced Mami to let me drop off your gift before we picked up Abuela for church," I said, handing her the gift in my hand. "Happy birthday."

She beamed at me as she took her present. My heart was thudding loudly in my chest as I watched her open it. A pleased gasp escaped her when she pulled out the pink and black polka dot bra from the tissue paper. Her other hand lifted the matching panties that came in the set.

"I saw them in a catalog last month, and thought you'd like them," I explained.

"I love them! Thank you so much, Santana. I'll wear them today!" she gushed.

I pointed towards the tissue paper. "There's one more thing in the box."

The last item in the box was what I was most nervous about (though looking back on it later, I should probably have felt more awkward at the time about giving her a lingerie set). I wanted her to love it as much as I did, but I was nervous that she wouldn't. I held my breath as she searched through the paper to find a smaller box hidden in the corner. Her eyes got so big when she saw the _Tiffany & Co._ neatly embossed on the top. Her fingers carefully pried it open.

"Santana…" she breathed. I grinned at her speechlessness.

"I wanted to find one exactly like mine, so we could match, but they've discontinued it. This was the closest I could get."

Her eyes were still so wide as she looked up to me from the bracelet in the box. "This is so expensive, though. I can't –"

"Yes, you can," I interrupted. "You're my best friend, and I want you to have it. Turning fifteen is like, a big milestone, and I know most Americans turning fifteen isn't celebrated as much as it is in Hispanic families, but you deserve something really nice for your own Quinceañera."

She didn't say anything as I took the bracelet from the box and fastened it around her wrist. When it was secure, she pushed the empty boxes aside and grabbed my hand. I was pulled into another tight hug, which I gladly returned. She didn't have to say anything because I could feel how much she loved it just by her touch and the way she clung to me, but she murmured her thanks against my ear anyway. I smiled at her politeness.

The moment was interrupted when I heard my mother call to me from below. "Santana, we have to go. Your abuela will already be irritated your father isn't with us. Let's not give her a reason to be mad at us too, okay?"

Reluctantly, I pulled away. Brittany kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand as I stood to leave.

"Thank you, Santana."

"Anything for you, Britt-Britt."

Brittany followed me downstairs and waved goodbye as we pulled out of her driveway. I waved back, not even trying to hide the pathetic look on my face because I knew I wouldn't see her again until the end of the month.

It took us about twenty minutes to get to Abuela's house. She was pissed that Papi had to work, but after a few minutes, she cooled down. When Mami mentioned that I was grounded, I got a stern stare from my abuela.

"What did you do, Santanita?"

I met Mami's eyes in the rearview mirror. She cocked her eyebrow at me to let me know I had to do the talking. I didn't want her to know about the party or the text I'd accidentally sent to my mother. My eyes flicked back to Abuela, who was turned around in the passenger seat waiting for my answer. "I've been neglecting my SAT studies," I said.

Abuela narrowed her eyes at me. "You must have ignored it for a long time to be grounded for two weeks."

I didn't say anything.

"Santana, I hope you know that your education isn't something throw away. You'll have plenty of summers to do whatever you want after you're finished with school."

I didn't want her to start one of her numerous lectures about the importance of my schooling again. "Yes, ma'am."

She reached for my hand, and I gave it to her. A soft smile spread across her face as she patted it between her own wrinkled palms. "You're a good girl, Santana."

"She's more upset that she can't spend time with Brittany today," Mami said, and while I was thankful she chose not to divulge the full reasons for my punishment, I scowled at the teasing smile she gave me in the mirror.

"Those two are attached at the hip," my grandmother agreed. "You'll be fine without her, I'm sure. The better for you to study."

At her mention of studying, I suddenly remembered my promise to Brittany. I'd been giving her about ten new words a week to learn. She'd been doing really well, but if I was grounded, there would be no way to help her.

"Mami! What about Brittany's SAT words? How am I going to help her learn them if we can't talk?"

"Honey, I'm sure she'll be alright for two weeks."

"But I promised to help her! She doesn't have my books."

"She's got internet access, right?" Mami asked. "She should be able to find some online."

I slumped in my seat. Of all the worrying I'd done about not seeing Brittany, I'd completely let it slip about our study sessions. And it made me feel tremendously guilty.

"Why don't you send her a letter?" Abuela suggested.

I stared at her. "A letter?"

"Don't give me that look, Dumbo. Surely you've used a mailbox before."

I had to bite back a smile at my abuelita's insult. I looked between the two women in front of me. "But I'm not allowed to talk to her."

Abuela rolled her eyes in classic Lopez fashion. "Good heavens, niña, you don't have to gossip in the letters. Just send her some words."

I felt hope rise in my chest. "Would that be okay, Mami? You and Papi can read the letters before I send them. Please?"

I could see her shaking her head. "If your father says it's okay, then I suppose it's all right."

Abuela winked at me, and I grinned back at her. Brittany had visited her with me countless times as we grew up, and Abuela knew that sometimes Britt had trouble in school. I whispered a quick thank you to her. She patted my knee and turned back to the front. I spent the entire mass coming up with the words I would send Brittany when I got home.

Because of the late afternoon mass, we didn't stay at Abuela's for lunch. As soon as we got home, I asked Papi for permission for Abuela's idea. When he agreed to it, I ran upstairs to work on my letter. It only took me about fifteen minutes to explain what I was doing, and spell out the words and definitions for her to use. We usually practiced using them in sentences, so I requested that she write me back using the vocabulary in sentence form. After I addressed the envelope, I sealed the letter inside. Mami gave me a stamp, and I ran to the mailbox.

I spent the next two days eagerly waiting for her response to come in the mail. Since both of my parents worked during the week, I was home alone. Apart from studying, there was not much to do to keep myself entertained. They had locked the television with parental controls, and I knew better than to try to invite Brittany to come over because I knew our nosy neighbor Mrs. Barron would love to have an excuse to rat me out to my parents. (She'd overheard my conversation with Brittany as she weeded her garden while I sat on our porch the morning I'd been grounded.)

As I sat listlessly on the couch in the living room, I just happened to look out of the window to see the mailman walk away from our box. Without hesitation, I sprinted outside to retrieve the mail and nearly split my face with my grin when I saw Brittany's letter in the middle of the stack of mail. It took a lot of self restraint to make it to the kitchen so I could fling the rest of the mail onto the counter before tearing open Brittany's envelope. I took a seat at the island as I read a large sticky note that was stuck to her vocabulary sentences.

_Santana,_

_It's like we're penpals! I've never had a penpal. This is going to be a lot of fun. Tell your abuela that she's a genius._

_I guess I shouldn't write much more. I don't want you to get in trouble._

_I miss you!_

_Love ya, Brittany_

My heart melted inside of my chest when I read her little note and saw the tiny doodles around her flowing script. I peeled the note off of the paper and turned my attention to the ten sentences in matching handwriting. Since we'd begun five weeks earlier, Brittany had caught on to the vocabulary pretty quickly. It seemed that with the proper encouragement, Brittany had blossomed with her understanding of the English language. There were instances when she would mix word meanings, but those were few and far between (and always adorable). I smiled when I saw that she'd done just that on the paper in my hands.

_I don't know why Mom thinks starting Lord Tubbington on Atkins is __acerb__._

It took me a few seconds to figure out which word she'd misused, and then I realized she'd meant _absurd_. I grabbed a pen to correct her mistake and used another sheet of paper to write her a list of new words. I told her to try using _acerb_ again. After I put it in a new envelope, I looked around for a stamp. Within minutes, it was in the mailbox, ready for the mailman to pick up the next day.

Our letter routine helped the time pass, but the next two weeks still crawled by. Finally, the last week of July arrived, and Papi dropped me off at the school on his way to work that Monday morning. I'd been awake for a couple of hours in anticipation of the trip and finally getting out of my punishment. I kissed my father on the cheek to say goodbye, grabbed my bag, and started my trek across the parking lot towards the school bus waiting for us on the far side of the lot. My eyes scanned the area for Brittany, and I saw her sitting on her bag against the flagpole, listening to her iPod with her eyes closed. She had never been a morning person, and to be ready to go at the school at six in the morning would have been a struggle for her.

I plopped down beside her and rested my head against her shoulder. When she rested her head against mine, I knew she was barely awake, and I couldn't stop giggling. She was so sleepy that she didn't realize that I was finally ungrounded. I wrapped my arms around her and pushed her to the ground. The dew on the grass was cold, and it snapped her awake.

"Santana!"

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Aren't you going to say hi to me?"

I stood to help her off the ground and was immediately captured in an enormous bear hug. I returned it with just as much enthusiasm. I could have stayed there for the rest of the week, but we were interrupted by Quinn.

"Get a room."

Brittany laughed and pulled her into our hug. Quinn tried to resist, but Brittany held her tight, and eventually she joined our giggles. It was unusual to hear her laugh like that. Normally, Quinn did her best to project that ultimate super-popular bitch image, which I guess, is why we've always gotten on well. We broke apart when we heard Sue's voice through the megaphone she always carried.

"Alright ladies, everyone on the bus. Let's go. If you don't suck at camp, I'll think about finding an alternative to the cheesewagon for the trip home. You've got to prove to me that you're championship material."

Brittany and I shouldered our bags and followed Quinn and the other girls onto the bus. The two of us sat behind Quinn, and she turned to talked to us as the bus lumbered down the road towards the camp site Coach Sylvester had personally picked for her nationally acclaimed cheering camp that was invitation only. It wasn't long before Brittany fell asleep again. One by one, the rest of the girls dropped off with her, and I decided to catch a little more sleep before we arrived because from our experience last year, I knew we would be getting very little all week.

Four hours later, we'd arrived in the middle of nowhere West Virginia. Rumor had it that Sue chose this location for her camp because of the mountain trails that we were required to run every morning. I hated those fucking hills last year.

We weren't the first to arrive at the camp. Several other buses were already parked off to the side. We unloaded our bags and gear as Sue directed us to our area of the camp. As freshmen, we were shunned to tents outside the cabin areas. There was a reason I'd never been camping, and I was so thankful that sophomores were allowed in the cabins. Unfortunately, because we'd graduated to more permanent housing, we were required to help the freshmen set up their tents. Two upperclassmen per freshie.

Sue read off our housing assignments. It was no surprise that the three of us were placed together, but there was a fourth member – a junior I didn't know very well named Jennifer something-or-other. Brittany dragged Jennifer off to help set up a tent. She gave me a bright smile when I protested ("We should build some relationships, silly."), so I grabbed Quinn before someone else could.

I had absolutely no idea how to start setting up a tent, since I'd convinced one of the upperclassmen boys to do it for me last year, so it was mostly Quinn and the freshie doing the work while I pretended to read the directions. Brittany and Jennifer finished before we did, and they waited on us until the tent was finally pitched.

"So, who did you help?" Brittany asked me.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't ask her her name."

Brittany looked at me disapprovingly and shook her head, but I could see a hint of a smile on her lips.

We walked into the cabin, and Brittany and Jennifer immediately claimed the top bunks. We had about thirty minutes until the entire camp had to meet in the amphitheater for the nightly meeting where everyone came together for announcements before dinner. That gave us just enough time to put away our clothes and toiletries before we left. A lot of the Cheerios met up with people they'd befriended from previous years, but I stuck next to Brittany.

I always rushed through dinner because so many headed to the showers afterward. With close to two hundred cheerleaders, the hot water tended to run out quickly. The two of us retrieved our toiletry bags and towels from our cabin and started walking to the showers. Brittany decided to hang back when she ran into a friend of hers she'd met last year, so I continued on my own.

The shower building was practically deserted, so finding an empty stall was easy. Just as I was finishing, the dinner crowd started coming in, so I gathered my things quickly and left. I was going to wait for Brittany, but I figured that she had gotten lost in the crowd when I couldn't find her.

By the time I had finished drying my hair, Jennifer and Quinn had made it back. Quinn asked if I would braid their hair for the next day, so I sat on my bunk as they took turns sitting in the floor for me to work. I did Jennifer's first, and then Quinn took her spot in front of me.

"Where's Brittany?" she asked.

"She found E.T. earlier, and stopped to talk to him." I said.

"What?"

I looked up at Jennifer, who was sprawled across her bunk with a magazine in front of her. Her confused expression was almost comical. I guess it was strange for her to hear me say that. Quinn explained it for her.

"He's a guy Brittany hooked up with last summer. E.T. is his initials. His real name is like, Eli or something. He's from the school in Pennsylvania that got third place at nationals last year."

I kept my eyes on my hands as they worked on Quinn's braid. I still wasn't sure how I felt about Brittany and E.T. They'd hit it off right away when they were placed in tumbling drills together. It was a short fling, and E.T. was the one Brittany had lost her virginity to. She'd snuck into my tent the next night to tell me about it, and while I'd been surprised (and intensely jealous), she answered all my questions, while assuring me that she was perfectly fine.

As if on cue, Brittany walked through the door, freshly showered with a grin on her face. "Sorry I'm late. That took way longer than I thought it was going to."

"Wanky."

I heard Quinn sigh, and Brittany rolled her eyes at me. By some sort of sorcery, her hair was already practically dry. How she always managed to towel dry her hair so well, I could never figure out. I quickly tied off the end of Quinn's hair so Brittany could take her place. I loved running my fingers through her hair. It was always smooth and fine and smelled awesome after she showered. She skipped over and sat down between my legs, wrapping her arms around my calves.

"How's E.T.?" Quinn asked.

"He's good. And I finally got to meet his friend. Patrick's really cute, girls," she said in a sing-song voice.

I felt her squeeze my legs. Jennifer and Quinn both shook their heads and mumbled something about their boyfriends, and I groaned when Brittany said that we were meeting up with them for breakfast.

"Why?"

"Because you need to meet him. And Quinn and Jennifer should meet E.T. They're really nice. You'll like them if you give them a chance."

Even though she couldn't see my face, I narrowed my eyes in suspicion while continuing to run my fingers through her hair. "Is this a clever plot to hook up with E.T. again?"

Brittany tilted her head back to look at me. "He's got a girlfriend. She's super cute too. I met her when I saw E.T."

Before I had a chance to provide reasons that I didn't want to go, Quinn spoke up. "I think it's good that you're not hooking up with him, Brittany. In fact, I think all of you should join the new club I'm starting when we get back to school."

"What is it?" Jennifer asked.

"A celibacy club."

I snorted. "Hell, no."

"Is that like, a vegetarian club for salad lovers?" Brittany asked.

"No, Britts. It's a club for people who can't get laid."

"That's not what it is, Santana," Quinn argued. "It's a matter of choice. I think it's important that we project ourselves as classy women who are above such vulgar influences that the vile boys at our school try to rope us into."

"Well, as it's an individual choice," I said, "I will choose to not give up orgasms."

Jennifer laughed. Quinn just glared at me. "I think it would be beneficial for our Cheerios image. Boys have come to expect us to just give it away, and that's wrong."

I felt Brittany shift to get more comfortable. "Does that mean I can't have sex ever again?"

"No, it's just a promise to wait until you've found the man you want to marry," she explained.

"But that could take years," Brittany observed.

I scratched her scalp when she hugged my legs tighter to her body. Quinn explained that we would meet after school and that both guys and girls could join. I zoned out while they talked about it, and I probably shouldn't have because after a few minutes, I overheard Brittany and Quinn discussing what my officer position should be. I tried to argue, but Brittany was pleading with me to join with her. And even though I didn't understand why she suddenly wanted to join Quinn's stupid club, I finally caved.

I listened carefully as they planned the first meeting. Eventually, I was able to steer them away from it because Quinn was getting that crazy look in her eye when she gets really into planning something. We talked about school and our schedules and our plans for the remaining days of summer vacation. A few hours passed. Jennifer was the first to fall asleep. A little while later, I felt Brittany relax against my legs, and I knew she was dozing off. I realized I had been playing with her hair and never fully braided it, so I did it quickly when Quinn said she was going to go to sleep. When I finished, I gently nudged her awake. She stood groggily, and I watched her carefully as she climbed into bed to make sure she didn't fall off the ladder. I squeezed her hand and told her good night. I knew it was important for us all to get as much rest as we could. Morning would come early.

Breakfast was served at six. We were required to be dressed and ready when we sat down to eat. All four of us were tired when we got up, but Brittany perked up instantly once we found her Pennsylvania friends in the cafeteria. E.T. was sitting between a girl and another guy, and I assumed them to be his girlfriend and Patrick. When Brittany introduced us all, she nudged me a little when she pointed out Patrick.

His skin was deeply tanned, and his dark hair was just barely long enough to sort of fall in his eyes. They were a dark green, and I figured for what it was worth that he was pretty attractive. I noticed that his attention seemed to stay on me during the entire meal, and apparently Brittany did too because she kept giggling and elbowing me in the side. There wasn't a lot of time to get too personal with them because we were shuffled out of the cafeteria pretty quickly to start our morning run in the fucking mountains.

At the end of every day, we were too exhausted to do anything but collapse on our bunks. We stayed busy with our conditioning and classes and group routines. We would rotate stations every day so that by the end of the week, everyone had the chance to become visit each one multiple times.

On Friday, our little group sat with Patrick and E.T. at dinner, just like we had all week. I decided that Patrick wasn't the most interesting person on earth, but he wasn't annoying either. Right before everyone finished eating, he leaned over to me and asked if I wanted to take a walk with him. We would be leaving in the morning to return home, and I could tell he had a little crush on me, so I agreed to humor him. I told Brittany where I was going, and she smirked at me before we parted.

Patrick and I walked in silence for a little while. He was nervous, but I managed to keep my insults to myself. When he slipped his hand into mine, I quirked my brow at him, and stopped walking.

"Look, I don't know what you're thinking right now, but us having a relationship is not going to happen," I said.

Cleary, I had flustered him. "I – "

"We can play pretend right now, but I'm not interested in continuing this after tonight. Is that clear?"

Patrick licked his lips and nodded. I didn't plan on hooking up with anyone during the week, but once I realized that the opportunity had presented itself, I decided that it had been too long since I'd had a decent orgasm – at least since the beginning of summer…before I'd ended it with Puck.

So I pulled Patrick into the boys' locker facility knowing that it would be empty from everyone having packed up earlier that day. I pushed him onto a bench and straddled his legs, diving right into kissing him senseless. Once I felt that he was definitely into our little makeout session, I told him that nothing was going to happen unless he had a condom. There was no way I was going to risk catching something when I'd managed to avoid it for so long with Puck. Patrick pulled one out of his wallet. After I inspected it and he swore to me that he'd just put it there for camp – just in case – we got down to business. It was obvious that I wasn't his first, and while it wasn't mindblowing, it didn't suck. I left him laid out on the bench panting for air and waved goodbye.

I walked back to our cabin thinking about how random that hookup had been, and I felt a little weird about it. I'd never done anything like that before. Puck was the only one I'd ever slept with. I couldn't decide how I felt about what I'd done with Patrick. I decided I needed to talk to Brittany, so when I walked in, I was thankful that everyone had fallen asleep. I changed out of my clothes quickly and climbed the ladder to crawl into Brittany's bunk. I slid in beside her and wrapped my arm around her waist.

"Santana?"

"Shh, Britt. Everyone's sleeping," I whispered.

She turned to face me and hugged me back. "You smell like a boy."

I wrinkled my nose. I should have taken a shower. "I slept with Patrick…in the boys' locker hall."

Brittany pulled back to study me, and I suddenly felt too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. "Are you okay?"

I shrugged. I didn't know how to explain what I felt inside.

She rubbed her hand against my arm. "So are you guys going to see each other again?"

"No. This was a one time thing. I made sure he knew that."

I finally looked up at her. Her eyes were darting back and forth between mine. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, so I asked her.

"It's just weird that you did, I dunno."

I felt a little offended. "Why is it okay for you to have sex with anyone you want, but it's weird if I do it?"

Brittany laughed quietly. "It's fine if you want to, Santana. As long as you want to, that is."

"You're not mad at me?"

She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "Why would I be mad at you?"

And just like that, the strange feeling inside of me lifted once I knew how Brittany felt.

"Quinn will probably be mad at you, though. You sort of broke her club rules, didn't you?"

I smiled. "What Quinn doesn't know won't hurt her."

"So does that mean we can still have sex as long as we don't tell her?"

Her reasoning was logical. "Sounds good to me."

"Maybe her club won't be so lame now."

I could feel sleep starting to overcome me at that point, so I said goodnight and slipped back into my own bunk wondering if I could possibly sneak in another bus nap with her tomorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for the response from the last chapter! It is very encouraging to hear from everyone and to see the alerts. I wanted to share my take on Brittany's "alien invasion" comment. I have plenty of ideas planned for some future chapters, but I wanted to see whether anyone would get squicked out reading some het sex. Let me know.<strong>


	8. Standing on the Precipice

I was taking advantage of one of the few afternoons I had left before school started to lay out in my backyard. It was pretty awesome being ungrounded, and since I'd been back from camp, I kept myself busy catching up with all of the things I'd missed out on during my punishment – namely, hanging out with Brittany and – when she wasn't spending time with the giant oaf that followed her around – sometimes Quinn. Unfortunately for me at the moment, I was alone. Brittany had texted me earlier to let me know her dad was taking her out for a surprise. She was supposed to call me when she got back home because she was going to take an end of summer quiz over all of the vocabulary she'd learned, but it was already three in the afternoon. I tried calling Quinn when I found out that Brittany wasn't available, but her dad said she was out shopping with her mom. After that, I considered calling our camp roommate Jennifer, but I wasn't in the mood for an awkward one-on-one getting-to-know-one-another conversation.

I was pretty pleased with the tan I'd managed to acquire over the summer, and I'd mostly chosen to lie out because there was nothing else to do. I wasted time by flipping through my Facebook newsfeed on my laptop. It was pretty empty. I figured that most everyone was doing their best to avoid being inside for the remainder of the week before being forced back into classrooms in six days. The majority of the "news" scrolling past was lame, but then I saw Puck's latest status update.

**Noah "Puck" Puckerman** jst finished my last pool of the day gonna play cod4 any1 want 2 join

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't taken up the favor he'd promised me at Mike's party. I sent a quick text to him to make sure he was still at home. Then I picked up my laptop and carried it up to my room. Before I could place it on my desk, Puck responded.

_yes y?_

_I'm coming over to cash in that favor you owe me._

The next message was almost immediate, and I rolled my eyes when I read it.

_i dont have 2 pick u up do i?_

_No. Don't go anywhere. I'll be there within 20._

Since I was only wearing my swimsuit, I threw on some jean shorts and a short-sleeved shirt that I didn't bother to button. There was no way I was travelling the streets of Lima in a bikini. I knew Felix had aired up his bicycle tires when he was home to go riding, so I grabbed it from the garage. Locking up the house didn't take long, and I was on my way to Puck's.

When I knocked, Hannah opened the door. She looked up at me without inviting me in. I hadn't been around since before school had let out, so she was probably wondering what I was doing there. She looked a little wary of me. But that was probably because I wasn't good with kids. Or because my shirt was hanging open. And maybe the fact that she probably heard Puck and me having sex a lot when we dated.

"Hey, Hannah. Is your brother around?"

Without a word, she stepped aside, but she didn't take her eyes off of me. I took that as my cue to walk into the family room. Puck was shirtless, sprawled out on the couch mindlessly blowing away enemy soldiers on the television. A bubble of annoyance rose within me, and I restrained my desire to turn off the stupid console, knowing that if I caused him to die, there was no way he'd cooperate with me. Instead, I stood to the side of the television, careful not to block the screen. His sister was still staring at me, but Puck hadn't said anything yet.

"I want to talk to you," I said. "Alone, preferably."

"Can it wait?"

My hand moved towards the power button of his Xbox. "I wouldn't have come over today if it could."

Puck shot straight up, but his eyes didn't leave the screen. "Shit! Hold on! Let it just get me to an autosave. Jesus! Don't turn it off yet."

I settled into the armchair beside the couch, and Hannah took a seat next to her brother. All three of us watched as Puck played for about five more minutes. Then he cut off his game and faced me. I stood and followed him towards his room. Hannah shouted at our retreating backs.

"Does this mean I can watch _Hannah Montana_ now?"

Puck didn't say anything and just waved at her. The two of us walked in silence, and when we finally made it inside, I closed the door and laid it out for him. "Here's the deal, Puck. You owe me for that bet you won at Mike's. I've thought about it for a while now, and I've decided what I want you to do."

He crossed his arms. "And what's that?"

"You're going to go down on me."

I cocked my head when he laughed. "No, I'm not."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yes, you are."

When he saw my irritation start to flare to the surface, he realized I was serious. "You're joking, right?"

"Why would I be joking?"

"Well, what do I get out of it?"

This time I laughed. "You got twenty bucks and bragging rights with all of your Neanderthal friends."

"You got twenty bucks too," he protested.

"Yes, but you also promised me that you would _do anything_ I wanted if I would just play along."

"But…" he started. He was looking around his room as if someone could come in and save him. "It's not fair for you to get off and leave me with a raging boner."

"That's not my problem."

"Santana…"

"Just rub one out after I leave."

"Come on."

Embarrassment starting creeping up inside of me the longer he resisted my request. I felt foolish for suggesting it in the first place because I knew how reluctant he was about it when we were dating. To save face, I attacked his pride. "Fine. If you're unwilling to keep up your end of the bargain, I'll just have to tell everyone how you couldn't keep your promise."

He grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. "No, I'll do it. I'm a man of my word. Just…"

"What?" I asked.

"Can I…while we…" he trailed off and made a pumping motion with his fist.

"Gross."

"Please?"

I finally gave in and sat down on his bed. "Okay, Puck. Whatever. But you'd better contain your jizz. I don't want any of it near me, got it?"

He grinned at me and grabbed a box of tissues and some lotion from his nightstand. After he set them on the floor, he leaned down to kiss me, but I stopped him.

"No kissing."

"I thought that was kind of the point of the agreement?" he smirked.

"On the mouth, asshole."

He laughed and moved his hands to push my shirt from my shoulders. He kissed up and down my neck as his hands pulled at the string to my swim top. I tried to grab his wrists to stop him from doing that too, but he shook me free.

"You gotta give me something to work with here, Santana. I need some inspiration and motivation if I'm going to do this right."

He pulled the knot loose, and I let him. "You've done this before?" I acused.

Puck looked a little sheepish. "A few times."

I leaned back on his bed, propping myself up with my elbows. "This had better be worth you making me wait so long, then."

He smirked again and moved his hands to the button on my shorts. They slid down my legs easily, and he wasted no time pulling the strings holding my bottoms to my hips. Within seconds, I was fully exposed. Puck kissed his way down my abdomen and palmed my breasts. It was a little rough, but nothing unusual from what I was used to with Puck.

I didn't have any time to prepare before his tongue was on me. The surprise of it caused me to fall on my back completely. It was a strange sensation. Definitely firm, but softer than anything else that had been there. Puck was pressing insistently against me, and I covered my mouth. I didn't want him to hear any squeak that might escape. My other hand rested against my forehead as he continued to knead my breast with one of his hands while the other firmly gripped my leg. Even though it was my first time to experience having someone go down on me, it definitely didn't seem like Puck's first time to do it. Either that, or he was faking it fabulously. He seemed confident in his strokes, and I swallowed a moan when he traced against my clit.

Tension was slowly getting tighter and tighter within me. I had to close my eyes from the pressure. Puck's hand slid from my breast, across my ribs, and down my thigh. His other moved too, but it didn't take long to figure out why. His fingers pushed into me, and my back arched without my permission. I was so full. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a precipice waiting to fall, but the final shove never came. I was so close, but not even him sucking on my clit could push me over.

I thought my left leg was trembling, but I realized that it was Puck's shoulder that was making me shake. The same shoulder of the hand that had disappeared from my breast. Suddenly, I knew why it disappeared, and my desperation to climax increased tenfold. I knew that it was a major turn on for most guys to watch a girl give them a blow job, so I tried turning my attention towards him. All I could see was the ridiculous strip of hair that sat on top of his head. The sight of him that close to me did nothing, so I closed my eyes again. I tried bucking my hips to see if that would work, but it didn't. Puck's shoulder was shaking harder, and I finally gave up chasing after my orgasm. I decided to fake it anyway because if there was any chance I could hook up with Puck again, I wanted to still have this option open, even if it didn't work for me the first time.

My legs clamped around his head, and I let my back arch high off the mattress. I'd faked it with him before, so I knew he'd believe it. His shoulders only shook for a few more seconds before I felt him tense, and I let go of his head. As soon as he was free, he fell back onto the carpet. Without sitting up, I fixed my bikini straps around my neck and hips. When I stood up to grab my shorts, I saw that Puck was still in the floor, still shirtless, with his shorts around his thighs.

"Your dick is hanging out," I said, buttoning my shorts.

He laughed feebly. "You're welcome, sweetheart."

I rolled my eyes and left his room. As I walked by the family room, I saw his sister singing her heart out to something on _Hannah Montana_. It was sort of cute, but I kept walking. Felix's bike was on their lawn where I'd left it. I took my time riding back to my house.

It bothered me that I'd wasted my favor. And there was a bitter disappointment that my first oral sex experience wasn't as glamorous as popular culture portrayed it. But I should have known better. Sex was never as glamorous as it's portrayed – especially when it's with teenage boys.

After I put Felix's bike back in the garage, I trudged through the door to the kitchen. My mother was home from work, and she called to me from the den, "Santana, is that you?"

"Yes, Mami."

I wanted to wash off the smell of sex from my body before my mother noticed, but she walked into the kitchen before I had a chance to escape. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Whatever sounds good to you and Papi is fine with me. And Britt may be staying," I added quickly. "She might come over later to go over her vocabulary. I made a test for her."

I edged away from her towards the door as she poured herself a glass of water. "Might?"

"She's out with her dad right now. I don't know if she's coming over today."

"That's fine," she said and then paused a moment. "You know, it's very sweet of you to help her."

"She's my best friend." I shrugged, and my mother smiled at me.

"Come down and eat when she's done with her test, okay?"

I took that as my dismissal, and I scrambled up the stairs and into the bathroom. I considered soaking in the tub for a while but decided against it. I wanted to be clean and flop onto my bed until it was time for dinner. When I was undressed, I stepped into the glass shower stall and let the warm water rinse away some of the tension I'd carried with me since leaving Puck's house. The water felt good as it beat against my head and shoulders, and I just stood there for a few minutes before I started my shower routine. I was in the middle of washing my hair when I heard a knock, followed by the sound of the bathroom door being opened.

"Santana?" I heard Brittany's voice say.

"Hey, Britt. When did you get back?"

She closed the door behind her as she entered the bathroom. "A few minutes ago. I rode my bike over. I had to leave my suit and boots outside though. They're completely covered in dirt."

My face scrunched in confusion. "What time is it?"

"About a quarter to five."

Even though my mother was home, I didn't realize it was so late in the afternoon. I rinsed my hair under the water. "What did your dad want with you today?"

The shower glass distorted her figure into a colored blob, but I could see that she was perched on the counter by the sink. "Someone in his motorcycle club told him that the BMX course downtown is allowing motocross to use it every other week. Now we don't have to go down to Dayton whenever I want to ride."

I slid the shower door open just a little to grab my towel from the rack on the wall and smiled as I shut the water off. Despite her trying to hide her enthusiasm, her voice gave it all away. Brittany had been riding dirt bikes since her dad had been able to get her on one, and even though she didn't participate in competitive events, I knew she loved riding and spending time with her father. "That's good news, Britt."

When my body was dry, I wrapped the towel around myself and stepped out of the shower. I stepped over to the closet to grab another towel for my hair. When I turned around, I saw that Brittany had hopped off the counter and was fiddling with the water taps in the shower. All that covered her was a tank top and some boy shorts. My eyes bugged because I knew that my mom freaked out when I walked through the house in my swimsuit.

Brittany must have noticed me staring because she asked, "What?"

"Did you ride to the house like that?"

She looked at me like I was crazy. "Uh, no. Didn't you hear? I had to take off my pants and jacket because they were covered in dust. I didn't want to track dirt through your mom's kitchen."

It was then that I noticed how dirty her face was. Even the other parts of her skin that should have been covered with her protective gear were coated in a thin layer of dust. It had somehow managed to get into her suit and underneath her helmet. She definitely needed a shower. I grabbed a clean towel and threw it at her. "Better wash behind your ears, Britt-Britt. Mom will go ballistic if you get anything on her dining chairs."

She laughed, and I turned to the sink to wash my face. The scrub I used felt refreshing and cool – a stark contrast from the summer heat of the day. It only took a few minutes for me to finish, and I turned to leave to let Brittany finish her shower alone.

When I got back to my room, I dressed quickly and printed out the vocabulary sheet for Brittany's test. We agreed that all she would have to do is define each word. We'd gone through ninety new words for her, and I was eager to see how she would do. I was impressed with what she had already accomplished. By the time I finished gathering a lap tray, pencils, paper, and her test, Brittany had finished her shower and was directing me to sit in front of my vanity. As usual, she'd managed to dry her hair just by using her towel, and she set to work unwrapping mine and brushing out the tangles. I closed my eyes and let her use the hair dryer to dry mine.

"Tell me about your day. What did you do?"

My eyes snapped open, and my body stiffened at her question. I didn't know why I felt embarrassed to tell her what I'd done. It wasn't as if I'd never discussed having sex with Puck before. "I laid out in the yard for a while."

"All day?"

I hesitated. I knew I couldn't keep it from her forever. "And I…um. I took up Puck on his favor that he owed me."

"Oh, yeah? What did he do?"

I tried to sound nonchalant, but my mouth felt dry. "He, uh, he went down on me."

The brush in her hand stilled for just a moment, and I looked into the mirror to gage her reaction. The corners of her mouth were barely turned up, and her eyebrows were raised expectantly. "And? How was it?"

I wiped my hands against my Cheerios shorts from last year. "It was okay, I guess."

"Just okay?"

I decided this truth was the reason I was so reluctant to tell Brittany about what I'd done. To admit that my first oral experience wasn't as good as hers made me feel like I'd done something wrong. "Yeah, I mean, it was fine."

She smiled at me as she turned off the dryer and continued to comb through my hair with her fingers. "Sounds like you didn't have a very good experience."

"I couldn't – I wasn't able to…get there."

Brittany met my eyes in the mirror. "Maybe Puck isn't very good at it."

I shrugged.

She continued, "You just need to find yourself a guy with an amazing tongue and not one that's making up a bet."

"Maybe."

I didn't think that was the case. It felt more like there was something wrong with me, and I didn't say anything. Of course, Brittany sensed my discomfort, and tried to lighten the conversation.

"Hey, let's take that test. I've been studying all week."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me onto my bed where I'd set up her testing materials. I asked her if she wanted me to put her on a time limit, and she declined since this was her first test. She still wanted me to keep the time so she could pace herself, so I pulled out my magazines and started the stopwatch on my phone when she started. I tried to flip through the pages quietly while she worked. When I heard my father announcing he was home, I got up to close my door to keep the noise from downstairs out of the room. Every once in a while I would watch her as she concentrated. Her brows would move close together, and occasionally, she would mouth the definition as she read it back to herself. A little over an hour passed before Brittany finished.

"Done," she said, setting her pencil down, and peeking at the time on my phone.

I pulled the lap tray and a dictionary over and set to work grading her test. By the time I finished, I'd marked twenty-nine wrong. I looked up and felt my heart sink when I saw the disappointment on Brittany's face.

"Don't be upset, Britt," I said, reaching out to link our pinkies. "That's almost a seventy percent score."

"Almost," she mumbled.

"It's a really good score for your first time."

Her eyes were trained on our hands. "It isn't good enough for your smart schools, though."

"Brittany," I coaxed, tugging on our pinkies until she looked at me. "I had to mark these right or wrong. No half-credit. You came really close on some of them. You did really well for your first assessment."

She looked like she wanted to believe me, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes. I placed the dictionary and lap table and extra materials in my floor and pulled her into a hug. "I'm proud of you."

She squeezed me tighter and asked, "Promise?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Brittany."

She turned her head to kiss my cheek. Then she pulled back and looked at me. It was like she was looking for something, but she just said, "Thank you for helping me."

I wanted to reassure her and tell her I would always help her, but she didn't give me a chance before she kissed me on the mouth this time. It was the first time we'd kissed since Mike's party. She was barely pressing her lips against mine, as if she wanted to wait for me to reciprocate. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it until our lips were touching, and I leaned into her, placing my hands underneath her jaw. I used my palms to pull her closer and opened my mouth to let her tongue past my teeth. It was obviously apparent that we were picking up where we'd left off a few weeks before because I could feel that desire to slide my hands underneath her top. I wanted to touch her skin again, but I was completely sober, and I was afraid of what Brittany might think if I did it without the excuse of a high blood alcohol level.

I didn't realize that Brittany had straddled my legs until my back was against my mattress. My elbows were pinned to my body since I was still cupping her face with my hands, so I wiggled until they were resting against her back. Her kisses made me feel like we were melting into my bed, and I gripped her shirt to remind myself that I was still solid – that Brittany was still solid. She was pressing her body into me, and it felt so good – even better when she moved her mouth across my jaw and down to my neck. I tilted my head slightly so that I could bury my face in her hair. My hands moved lower as Brittany nibbled and sucked at the skin towards the back of my neck.

The hem of her shirt was worried beneath my fingers. I slid them back and forth over the stitching, pausing every few seconds to kiss her shoulder. Brittany pulled away for a moment, and I could already feel where a mark would be left on my skin.

"You can touch me, Santana."

I was terrified that she would be able to feel how hard my heart pounded when she spoke those words. I turned my head to see her looking at me. Her nose brushed softly against mine, nudging affectionately, and then she kissed me again. As our lips touched, one of her hands wrapped around my wrist and pushed it underneath her shirt. When my fingertips touched her bare back, I kissed her back, hard. My tongue pushed into her mouth, and her fingers wound themselves in my hair.

Brittany had been soft at Mike's party, but feeling her after she had just showered felt like heaven. She arched into me when I let the nails of both of my hands trail up and down her spine. Her body shifted to the side, and the palm of her right hand slid down to cup the back of my neck. Her kisses were all open mouthed. I could feel her breathing heavily. Both of us were. It was like my body was trying to force my hands to feel all of her at once. I couldn't move them fast enough. I felt my bravery swell, and I dared to try slipping a few of my fingers underneath the back of her bra as they traveled the length of her back. Every time I dragged them back down, I let them slip further and further to the side, until I brushed the swell of her breast. She panted against my mouth and pulled away to frantically kiss my neck again.

Only after I'd stopped kissing her did I realize that Brittany was slowly rocking against my leg. My hands froze against her ribs. I didn't know what to do. We'd never done anything like it before. My emotions were conflicted. I felt awkward knowing that my best friend was grinding against my leg, but the way she was biting and kissing and moaning against my skin was powerfully arousing. Even though I knew some part of me was starting to panic, the larger part of myself wanted it even more badly than I'd wanted to touch her skin just a few minutes prior.

My right hand pressed tight against her back, and my left moved to her waist. I felt the muscles underneath her pajama pants flex and relax, and I couldn't stand not kissing her any longer. My head pressed against hers to get her attention, and then we were kissing again. She started pressing her whole body into me and pushing her hips hard against my thigh. My left hand moved from her waist to her ass, and for a moment, I imagined that it was me guiding her and pulling her against me. I squeezed her, and it made her jerk. At the same time her thigh pressed between my legs, her right hand moved from my neck to my left breast.

"Oh god!" I couldn't help the cry that broke free. Brittany kept moving, and her thigh pressed against me with every rock forward. I couldn't catch my breath. Suddenly, I was back on the precipice from earlier in the afternoon, looking over the edge. Without thinking, my hand slid from her ass to the back of the thigh pressing into me, and I held it tight, bucking up against her leg. When I couldn't return her kisses, Brittany pressed her nose underneath my jaw, and I felt her tongue swipe the skin there. My senses were overloaded. Her tongue, her mouth, her hand, her leg, her body's heaviness against mine. All of it sent me hurtling with a running leap over the edge of the precipice, and before I could prepare myself, I fell fast and hard.

"Britt–" I choked as I came. My body curled around hers, and my hands held tightly, as if I would fall off the face of the Earth if I let go. Just before it ended, Brittany's body stiffened with a muffled moan against my neck, and her leg jerked against me. Another orgasm crashed over my body, and I tried to hide an embarrassingly loud groan in her shoulder.

I was too weak to keep holding on, and my arms went limp. My breath was still coming in pants, and I had to work hard to control my breathing. From the way my neck felt hot and damp, I knew Brittany was having the same problem. Within seconds, it hit me what had just happened, and my eyes shot open. I looked wildly around the room and saw that my door was still closed. Panic started rising up within my chest, and I squirmed uncomfortably underneath her. I couldn't think clearly with her pressed so close to me. Brittany felt my struggle against her and rose up slightly.

"You okay?"

It was too embarrassing to tell her what was going through my mind – that, despite how amazing the orgasm – no, _orgasms_ – I'd just had were, I was freaked out that I'd had them with my best friend, who was a _girl_ and not a boy. My brain came up with an excuse within seconds.

"Bathroom," was all I could force out.

I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact as she rolled to let me out from under her. As quickly as I could, I jumped from the bed and bolted to the door. I'd only taken a few steps when I felt how wet I was between my legs. I decided it was probably a good idea to go to the bathroom to figure out what was happening.

I crossed the hallway quickly and closed the bathroom door behind me. I yanked down my Cheerios shorts and underwear. I was shocked when I was able to _see_ how wet I'd gotten. My breath caught in my throat when I noticed the enormous dark spot that had seeped through the red shorts. If I had walked downstairs, my parents would have figured out what I was doing or assumed I'd had an accident. The panic that I felt in my bedroom increased tenfold as I frantically looked around for a change of clothes. The only shorts in the hamper were the ones I'd worn to Puck's. I couldn't change into them without Brittany becoming suspicious. I used toilet paper to clean myself up the best that I could and tossed my underwear into the hamper. The thought of using a hair dryer occurred to me, but I remembered that it was in my room. My chest tightened when I realized I had no way of hiding the embarrassing wet spot on my shorts without going back into my room to change. But I didn't want to do that in front of Brittany. Just as I was considering the possibility of staying in the bathroom until Brittany went downstairs, there was a soft knock and her voice at the door.

"Santana? Can I come in?"

The door cracked open, but my throat closed up, preventing me from saying no. My hands yanked my shirt down, though it wasn't needed since it was long to begin with. Brittany's head peeked around the door as I whipped my shorts behind my back. My feet were rooted to the floor, and I was unable to move. There was a worry line between her eyebrows. My free hand fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, making sure that it was pulled as low as it could be. She closed the door behind her and walked slowly towards me, as if I was a skittish animal that had been backed into a corner. When I looked around, I realized that I had, in fact, backed myself into the far corner of the bathroom as she entered.

"Sweetie, are you okay?"

My mouth opened, but I still couldn't find my voice. When she finally stood in front of me, her hand reached out to pull my arm out from behind my back. I resisted and tried to twist away from her, but Brittany was stronger. She'd always been stronger. When she saw how hard I was gripping my shorts, her eyes softened, and she looked at me. I felt tears threatening in my own, and I shook my head, trying to make an excuse, but Brittany just wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly to her.

"It's okay, Santana. It's okay. Don't be embarrassed. I changed mine too."

She let me go so I could see. Sure enough, Brittany had changed into some of my pajama pants. Her hand reached for my shorts and gently took them from me and threw them in the hamper with the other dirty clothes. I felt my panic subside just a little when I saw how calm Brittany was acting.

"Brittany," I said, finally finding my voice now that the tightness in my chest had lessened slightly, "I don't – we can't tell anyone about this. No one can know."

I felt her squeeze my hand. "Okay. I won't tell anybody."

"This can't happen again."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because straight people don't have sex with their best friends. I mean, whatever it is that we did. It's not normal, okay?"

"But we didn't really have sex. It isn't sex unless there's, like, penitence, right?"

That caught me off guard. I didn't understand what her point was. One could argue that the Church would guilt you into confession for sinfully engaging in premarital sex, but I didn't think that was what Brittany was trying to say. It wasn't until she held up one of her hands to form a ring and stuck a finger from her other hand through it that I realized what she was trying to say.

"Penetration?" I asked to clarify.

Brittany snapped her fingers. "That's the one. I knew it was something like that."

I couldn't stop the small smile from forming. "I suppose that's logical."

Her head bobbed in agreement. "We were totally just kissing and got a little carried away."

Immediately the guilt and worry and hysteria that wormed its way into my body vanished. I was blown away by Brittany's ability to understand the right way to calm me down. I squeezed the hand that was still in mine to say thanks, and felt relieved when she smiled back at me.

"You'll probably want to put on some pants before we go downstairs," she said, and I let her lead me back into my bedroom to change.


	9. Dealing with Quinn

Brittany and I only had non-sex one more time before school started in late August, and that was only because once again, our makeout session got a little too hot before either of us could slow down. I still didn't feel entirely comfortable with the whole situation, but it wasn't like we were actually having sex. (By Brittany's definition, anyway. And I was more than happy to accept said definition. It made me less anxious.) She was right when she told me that kissing was a great way to relax, and orgasms were even better. Because of that, I was able to push away any nervousness that crept into my subconscious.

Within the first week, it was obvious that my classes had definitely taken a step up in difficulty from the previous year. And what was worse was the fact that the only classes I shared with Brittany were our Cheerios PE and study hall. To keep herself from stressing out over grades, Brittany decided to take standard level subjects so that she could focus on keeping her grades up while staying on the Cheerios. I suppose it didn't really matter because we still had lockers right next to each other and ate lunch together. And there was always texting.

Because of my father's insistence, I was currently taking on a full load of honors courses – all the core subjects, anyway. As a result, Quinn and I shared honors English at the end of the day, which was cool because at least I had someone to sit beside and talk to, but at the same time, that meant I had to actually sit next to and talk to Quinn Fabray.

It was only the beginning of the second week in school before Quinn managed to find a source of drama. I could tell her feathers were ruffled by the way she slammed her books down on the table we shared. I didn't look up from the doodle I was working on in the margin of my notebook. Instead, I asked, "Who shoved a stick up your ass?"

I could almost feel the glare she shot me burn through the side of my head as she dropped heavily into her seat. "Finn joined glee club last week."

That made me stop and look up. "What?"

Quinn didn't say anything and continued setting out her notes and textbook for class. After a moment, I shrugged and focused back on the flower I was drawing. "To be honest, Quinn, it doesn't surprise me. I always thought that boy was a little funny."

"He's not gay," she snapped.

I started shading the petals. "I didn't say that he was. He's just weird. Now that you mention it, glee club seems like a perfect fit for Finn. I think I'm going to start calling him the Jolly Glee Giant."

"I can't talk him into quitting that stupid club. He's ruining everything," she said, completely ignoring me, "We were set up to be the top couple of sophomore year, if not one of _the_ top couples of the entire school, and now he's sabotaging my attempt of gaining ultimate popularity in this place. It's like everything I've worked for is going down the toilet. And on top of all of this, Rachel is following him around like a love-sick puppy."

Mr. Robertson walked through the door in his usual hurry and shouted for us all to get quiet. He sat down behind his massive podium and began his monotonous drone about _Hamlet_ or _Othello_ or something. I wasn't paying attention because I was too confused about what Quinn had just said.

"Rachel who?" I asked as I copied the notes projected at the front of the room.

"Man-hands Rachel."

I stopped and stared at her. The name didn't ring a bell. Quinn must have realized that I still had no idea who she was talking about.

"That Jewish girl in glee club that's involved in every club the school offers."

Still nothing.

"We just saw her in the bathroom the other day. You reminded her to shave after I asked her about the tranny prom."

Suddenly, it clicked as I could finally put the name to a face. "That loser who posts those lame videos of her singing on MySpace?"

Quinn looked a little exasperated. "Yes. That's Rachel."

A sharp laugh burst from me. I couldn't help it. Mr. Robertson sent a glare in our direction, but he wouldn't dream of reprimanding us because he's too afraid of Coach Sylvester. Instead, he took the passive-aggressive route and switched the slide so we couldn't finish copying the notes. "You're jealous of that dwarf? Oh my god, Quinn. That's hilarious."

"I'm not jealous of Rachel," she hissed, "I just don't like the fact that Finn is spending so much time with her and the rest of those bottom-feeders."

"So you're afraid you're going to lose your boyfriend to her," I teased, completely failing to keep a straight face.

"Are you out of your mind? There's no way Finn would leave me for Rachel."

"You never know, Quinn. Stranger things have happened. That froufrou club might just scramble the brains of your idiot boyfriend even more than they already are."

"At least I have a boyfriend, Santana."

"Oh, please," I argued as I pretended to follow along in our textbook, "I don't need a boyfriend to have orgasms."

There was a loud huff beside me. "You're _supposed_ to be abstinent. In case you've forgotten, you're the vice-president of the celibacy club."

I rolled my eyes. How could I forget? She made sure to remind me every day about our meeting that Wednesday. "Who said anything about sleeping around to get off? I'm perfectly capable of giving myself–"

Quinn held up her hand to interrupt. "Way too much information."

I glanced at her and smiled when I saw how red her face had flushed. She deserved it for forcing me to join her stupid club. Besides, if she was actually getting jealous of that sideshow freak, how could I pass up the opportunity to make fun of her? Despite my witty jabs, Quinn decided to ignore me for the rest of the class. Well, at least until Coach Sylvester threw open the door.

"Sue! You can't just interru–" Mr. Robertson tried to object.

"You two," she said, pointing at Quinn and me, completely dismissing our teacher's objection, "In my office. Now."

I blinked, and she was gone. Immediately, Quinn and I stood to gather our things. I'm pretty sure Mr. Robertson was threatening us with detention as we darted through the door, but it would have been far more dangerous for us to ignore Sue's demands, so we left the classroom and jogged towards her office.

When we arrived, Coach Sylvester was already seated behind her desk with a conspiring glint in her eye. She directed us to close the door and sit. She then proceeded to stared at us for a few seconds before she spoke.

"Ladies, we have a problem."

I spared a look towards Quinn. I could tell from her expression that she was just as clueless as I was. She asked, "What happened, Coach?"

"One of our wealthier boosters has made good on her promise to purchase new uniforms for the squad, and I'm now sitting on five grand that's burning a hole straight to my buttocks because it's stuck in my tracksuit pocket. There is not a single option that is acceptable for this money to purchase, and I'm beginning to grow uncomfortable with this burning sensation."

It was difficult, but I managed to restrain the natural instinct to say _wanky_. Quinn asked, "What's wrong with the uniforms in the catalog?"

"The problem, Quinn, is that they've been reused and rehashed for decades, and I need something that is going to grab the attention of those ancient, decomposing judges at nationals. And as my two top Cheerios, I need the both of you to help me find something that will help us gain the upper hand with first impressions and destroy the competition this year."

My mouth dropped open just a little when I heard Sue say that I was one of the top two on her squad. It was no surprise after all the talking Quinn had done that she'd been named Head Cheerio this year, but there had been no mention of any co-captain at all. The comment was extremely flattering considering there were several upperclassmen on the squad, and I was too busy hiding the giddiness I felt inside to have an appropriate response. Luckily for me, Quinn responded.

"My mother still uses a tailor, and he's rather gifted at finding new spins on old fashions. He might be able to come up with something for us."

Sue seemed to like that idea, and within minutes, she had him on speakerphone. Judy Fabray must have been one of his favorite clients because when he found out Quinn had referred him, I swear it sounded like he was beside himself with happiness. Or maybe he just had a boner for Quinn. Who knows? But within twenty-five minutes, the man had emailed Coach Sylvester a mock-up design for the new uniforms. A faint smirk crossed her face when she saw the images. With an arched eyebrow, Sue turned her laptop towards us and asked, "Well, girls?"

There was a colorless, faceless girl that looked like she'd been sketched quickly. Her cheerleading outfit was a little more detailed. It looked similar to the red and white uniforms we currently wore, except the skirt had several rectangular panels that hung loosely around the waist. I'd never seen any uniform like it, and from the pleased expression on Sue's face, she didn't seem to think the judges will have either.

"Perfect," I heard Quinn say, and I nodded in agreement. Even if the judges hated them, there was no question that the new uniforms would grab the attention of everyone else at McKinley.

While Sue called Judy's tailor to confirm the order, I checked the time on my phone. It was way past time for school to be let out, so I sent a quick text to Brittany letting her know where I was in case she was still waiting for me at the usual spot beside our lockers. Quinn must have forgotten her vow of silence against me because she started babbling about how exciting it was to have new uniforms and how much we would stand out at nationals this year. Before I could interject my own opinion, Quinn stopped mid-sentence and turned her head towards the closed door of Sue's office. It wasn't very loud, but music could be heard coming through the crack at the bottom. Quinn's puzzled expression matched my own, and we heard Coach end her conversation with the tailor.

Without a word, she stood and stormed out of her office. We followed her as she made her way towards the auditorium, and the music grew louder and louder. Instead of heading down to the main floor, Coach Sylvester took the stairs that led to the catwalk. After a few seconds, I recognized the lyrics to some 80's top 40 hit. As the stage came into view, I saw several people in red dancing about as they sang. I realized that Rachel girl was one of them because she was twirling and prancing around a giant oaf that turned out to be Finn. Quinn must have made the connection a split second before I did. Her jaw was clenched, and she was rubbing her hands together in that way she does when she's pissed. I kept my mouth shut for once because after all the teasing I'd done, Quinn was actually telling the truth. It wasn't sexual tension, but there was definitely something flirtatious going on between them.

After another minute or two, the song ended, and Sue turned sharply, muttering something about Will Shuester as she left the balcony. Quinn followed silently, and I had no reason to stay either. I figured that my mother would be waiting on me, since it was already close to the time she would normally pick me up, so I walked towards the entrance to the school.

When I got there, Brittany was sitting on the steps that led to the door, and I plopped down beside her. Her head instantly found my shoulder as her arm linked through mine.

"I figured that you'd be long gone by now," I said.

"I told my mom that I would catch a ride with you," she replied. "I hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay."

Brittany hummed in acknowledgement. The two of us watched in silence as cars passed in front of the school, and after a few minutes she asked, "So what was the deal with Coach Sylvester?"

I'd been so absorbed in the moment that I'd forgotten why I was late in the first place. "Oh! She wanted an opinion on new uniforms because, apparently, I'm Quinn's second in command now."

She lifted her head to look at me. The smile on her face was nothing but genuine. "That's so awesome, Santana."

For the first time since Sue had called me into her office and affirmed my co-captaincy, I felt a surge of happiness, and it only strengthened when I saw Brittany's enthusiasm. There was no stopping the enormous grin on my face as I described our soon-to-be new look for the squad.

When I was finished Brittany said, "That's super hot."

"And you will never guess what happened after Sue approved the uniforms. She wasn't even off the phone before we heard that bunch of weirdos in the glee club. They were singing a classic rock hit, and Sue practically ran down the hallway to the auditorium. All of them were prancing around on stage. Well, except for that crippled kid in the wheelchair –"

"Santana," she chastised as she linked her pinky through mine.

"What? He is. Anyway, Finn was up there with them –"

"Finn?"

"Yeah, he's totally gay and in the glee club now. But get this; while he was on stage, he was getting his disgusting flirt on with the biggest loser in that club."

"Rachel?"

"Yes! And – wait, you know Rachel?" I asked, completely shocked that Brittany knew who I was talking about.

"She's that loud girl with the big nose, right?"

"Yeah, that's her. How do you–"

"She used to go to my dance studio when we were little."

"Oh…well, anyway, she was hanging all over him. I swear, if they hadn't been in front of all of those other losers, I'm pretty sure they would have dry humped each other into oblivion right on stage."

"Ew."

I tilted my head in agreement. "And the best part wasn't Coach Sylvester's…weird rage about Mr. Shuester. It was the fact that Quinn was there. And she saw every glance between that pudgy giant and loud-mouthed dwarf."

Brittany played with my fingers as she scolded, "Santana, that's mean."

Just then, my mother pulled up in the Highlander. We walked towards the vehicle, still arm-in-arm, still pinkie-linked. Both of us climbed into the backseat, as was custom when we rode together. After we were buckled, I continued our conversation.

"I feel bad for Quinn. It's already embarrassing that her boyfriend has his very own swimfan, but the fact that she's now his gay beard is sad."

"Quinn's boyfriend is gay?" Mami asked from the front.

"He joined glee club, so it's pretty much confirmed."

The simultaneous _Santana_ that came from Brittany and Mami earned a giant eye roll from me.

"Just because Finn's in glee club doesn't mean he's gay," Brittany said. "Maybe he just likes singing."

My mother chimed in, "I'm sure that's it, Brittany. Santana, don't be so cruel to your friends."

If Mami could adopt Brittany, I'm almost positive that she would drop me in a heartbeat. (Okay, not really, but she loves Brittany. Seriously.) And when Brittany smiled the most adorable smile at me, I laughed. "Fine. I won't tease Quinn about her gay boyfriend."

And again, their voices came together to say, "_Santana._"

* * *

><p>On Wednesday, Quinn asked us to ditch lunch. It's not like we eat in the cafeteria anyway since we're on Sue's mastercleanse program, but I'm sure I could have found a better place than the bathroom to spend our lunch hour. (Not that we actually had an hour for lunch, but whatever.) I perched myself on one of the sinks and started filing my nails while Quinn walked into one of the stalls and started vandalizing the inside. Brittany leaned against the sink beside me as Quinn started rambling about how she had everything ready for her inaugural celibacy club meeting that afternoon.<p>

"And after Finn takes the guys out of the room, we can go over what we expect the female members to do. It's important that they understand what a serious task this is that we maintain the image we want to project. And as officers, I'll need the both of you to help me enforce it."

I looked up at her. "First of all, Quinn, I don't remember ever agreeing to be an officer. I believe that you're responsible for that one. Let that be noted. Secondly, I would like to remind you that I was forced into this absurdity, so I'm not promising anything when it comes to upholding any image. If I have an opportunity to get down, I'm taking it."

Before Quinn had a chance to respond, Brittany asked, "Wait, to clarify, we aren't supposed to have sex, right? Is oral exempt from that? Because I went down on Mike again last weekend."

Quinn was horrified enough to pause the movement of her marker. "Brittany! That's –"

A sudden influx of irritation rose within me, and I interrupted Quinn's rant. "So what, are you two like, a thing now?"

Brittany looked at me for a moment. "I don't know. He likes me, I think."

"Whatever."

Quinn broke in as Brittany opened her mouth to respond. "Regardless of whether you develop a relationship or not, that definitely counts Brittany!"

I knew Brittany was trying to make eye contact, but I was purposely keeping my eyes averted and started filing my nails again. Finally, she turned her attention back to Quinn.

"Okay." Her voice was quiet, and I almost felt bad, especially when she wandered away from my side.

Quinn continued her spiel about her grand plans and what we would be doing during the year. The more she talked, the more frustrated I felt. I wasn't sure where it was coming from, only that it was bubbling within me. Just before I snapped, I heard Brittany say, "Wow, Quinn, I didn't know you could draw."

I looked up in time to see Quinn shrug as Brittany looked over her shoulder. I tucked the file away in my bra and walked over to the stall. I don't know what I was expecting to see, but it certainly was not a naked caricature of Rachel Berry.

"What the f–"

"She needs to think twice before she decides to do something she'll regret," Quinn offered as an explanation.

"She has really big boobs," Brittany observed.

I couldn't resist sliding a jibe into the mix. "You know Quinn, for being so celibate and straight, you sure do have a gifted eye capturing the nude form. I think you might be developing a little crush on Berry. Maybe you could convince her to have a ménage à trois with you and the Michelin Man if you weren't such a prude."

"That's really funny coming from you, Santana. You and I both know who's more likely to start batting for the other team."

A flood of panic surged through me, and I couldn't think straight. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Quinn smiled as if she knew the best secret in the world. "Oh, I think you know."

My arms shoved her before I even knew what I was doing. Quinn stumbled backward and almost toppled over the toilet. It would have been funny if I wasn't so angry. Brittany grabbed me and pulled me out of the stall before I could go after her again. Quinn looked livid when she regained her balance and stormed over to where Brittany had me pinned against the sink. Brittany must have been able to see her in the mirror because she turned around to put a hand out to stop Quinn from coming nearer.

"Stop! There's no reason for anyone to be upset. Every one of us knows what Rachel Berry looks like naked."

Brittany's declaration caught us both off guard, and we turned our attention from killing one another to her for clarification. She kept us separated and shrugged. "We're all girls. We've seen boobs and vaginas before, so…"

As if it were God Himself intervening, the bell rang to signal the end of lunch. Brittany's comment had successfully distracted us, but blood was still pounding in my ears, and I still felt angry. Quinn seemed to be searching Brittany's face for something before she looked back at me and glared. I felt Brittany tense when I did, preparing to pull us apart once again, but Quinn just turned away. Before she walked out of the door, she said, "You'd better not be late this afternoon."

When the door slammed, Brittany released me from my pinned position. Not being able to have the last word infuriated me. "She can't seriously think that we're still going to that ridiculous excuse of a meeting after she pulls that shit!"

This time it was Brittany who stayed silent and avoided my eyes.

"Are you kidding me?" It was hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

"We _are_ officers, and we did promise to join a long time ago," she offered, still keeping her eyes to the floor.

"I didn't volunteer for anything!"

"But you didn't refuse it either," she pointed out.

I stared at her in disbelief. "Whose side are you _on_?"

Brittany finally met my eyes. "I'm not on anyone's _side_. I just don't want either of you to be upset with each other."

A feeling of betrayal weighed heavily against me, and I left the bathroom just as the tardy bell rang, vowing to myself that I would be heading straight home once school was over.

* * *

><p><strong>I am so sorry it took almost a year to update. I've had some unbelievable changes in my life, and it's hard to find the time to write! (And the end of season three when the writers kept Brittany from graduating pissed me off and sort of killed any inspiration and desire to continue writing, but I feel better about it now!) I can't promise that I will be able to update regularly, but I do have plenty of ideas to go along with the season storyline. I just need to find the time to write. I'm already working on the next chapter, and I thank you for your patience. The reviews and PM's you all have left me really help. I was able to update because of all the nice things you sent me, so thank you!<strong>


	10. Exploring New Territory

Sixth period was spent in various degrees of emotion – from seething to annoyance. Fortunately, we were experimenting in the lab, so I made my partner do the majority of the work while I wrote down the results. It was a pretty brainless activity, but I had no interest in doing anything more productive than writing down numbers on a worksheet.

For the first time ever, a feeling of dread filled me at the thought of having to go to the library for study hall when the bell rang. The other students quickly gathered their things, but I did my best to linger. In the halls, I walked as slowly as I could manage in the hopes that I would arrive after Brittany and find a seat far away from her, undetected. As much as I didn't want to admit, my feelings had been hurt, and I had no desire to talk about it with her, as she would inevitably want to do. So, I walked through the library's doors in a clump of other students just before the tardy bell rang and ducked behind some bookshelves, briskly walking towards a table in the back.

Naïvely, I assumed I would remain in isolation, perfectly content to pretend to read the assigned chapters for the next class. I really should have known better after being friends with Brittany for so long. I'd only been in my corner for ten minutes before I saw the familiar red and white of a Cheerios uniform in my periphery. Without asking, she sat on my right.

"Are you mad?"

My eyes stayed fixed on the book in my hands as I answered shortly. "No."

"Santana, I can tell that you're upset."

"Then why did you bother asking?"

Without warning, Brittany plucked the book from my hands and set it on the table.

"Are you mad about the Mike thing?"

There it was. A knot formed in my stomach for reasons for which I wasn't completely sure when I saw the genuine concern with which she was regarding me. Brittany actually cared about what I had to say, but I didn't know what I was supposed to tell her. Truthfully, I acknowledged within myself that the idea of her and Mike together had sparked the foul mood in which I currently found myself. However, there was no logical reason for me to feel that way. I supposed it was jealousy at the thought that if she and Mike started dating, it would mean less time for us to hang out together, but even that was a weak excuse. Then I wondered whether it was because she hadn't mentioned their recent encounter to me until an hour earlier. I was still reluctant to say any of that, and I simply answered, "No."

Brittany opened her mouth to call me out, but I interrupted her before she could. "It's just this whole thing with Quinn. What she said was out of line, and I don't like the fact that I'm being forced to follow along with her stupid celibacy agenda. She thinks that everyone should just follow her because she's Sue's golden child, and everyone thinks she's little Miss Perfect, and I'm just sick of it, is all."

She regarded me for a moment before she spoke. "Okay, well, I kinda understand why you're upset. But I don't think Quinn would have gone crazy if you hadn't provoked her, and don't take that the wrong way, either, because I'm not choosing sides. You're both a lot alike, so your personalities are going to clash sometimes, and that's okay. And because of that, that's why you should still go to the meeting this afternoon. Quinn is our friend, and friends support each other, even if they get mad at each other sometimes. Besides, she told me during Spanish that there would be snacks, so we can at least eat a bunch of the stuff she brought."

As Brittany talked, I felt the knot inside of me loosen and took a deep breath when she finished. "Fine. But I refuse to participate."

I reached towards my book, but her hand pulled it towards her, out of my reach. "Mike and I aren't dating, you know."

I tried to maintain an air of indifference. "I wouldn't care even if you were."

"Is that true?"

"Yeah," I lied. "I mean, he doesn't seem like an asshole, or anything. Do you _want_ to date him?"

Brittany slid the book back towards me. "He hasn't asked me out."

"If he did, would you?"

"I've thought about it. I know I said it would be weird and stuff, but he's cute. And we're already friends, so…"

"So now it's up to him."

She shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyebrows to agree, and that was that. Brittany started pulling out notebooks from her bookbag and placing them on the table. I watched her open one of them to a blank page, and the other to notes from Spanish class. She linked her left arm through my right as she wrote her name at the top of the blank sheet. "Mr. Shuester wants us to write a page about ourselves, and it has to be completely in Spanish, so I'll probably need your help."

When I promised to help, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I couldn't stop the smile that appeared on my face. As confusing as the Mike/Brittany thing was for me, I was thankful that everything was fine between us again. Brittany's adorableness was also something I couldn't get over, and when she wrote _Mi mejor amiga es Santana_, I quickly glanced around the library to see if anyone was watching before planting a quick kiss at the top of her head. When I felt her cheek press against my shoulder, I knew she was smiling, so I did it again.

English class didn't drag as slowly as I'd feared. I managed to sit away from Quinn and avoid talking to her. When the bell rang, I met Brittany at our lockers. Together, we walked into the history classroom being used for the meeting and saw Quinn with about a third of our squad standing and mingling with a few football players. Quinn merely looked at me before turning her head to address someone who was calling her name. Brittany led me over to the table filled with refreshments, and she and I picked at the fruit tray while we waited for Quinn to start the meeting. A few minutes passed, then Finn walked in with Puck, and Quinn rushed to greet them.

"Why is Puck here?" Brittany whispered.

I didn't know. After Quinn pointed them to the other side of the room, Puck noticed the two of us. Before I could get away, he joined us and grabbed a handful of crackers.

"What are you doing here, Puck?"

He spoke with his mouth full. "Quinn invited me."

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Quinn had already called for everyone's attention. She introduced the purpose of the club and what we would be doing. I had forgotten that Quinn didn't plan to spend the entire hour preaching about the sinfulness of sex. Just like she had explained in the bathroom, Finn took the guys into the adjoining room so that we would be free to discuss topics that might make one uncomfortable around the opposite gender. As ridiculous as that sounded, I was just grateful that she didn't plan to talk the entire time.

For the first fifteen minutes, I tuned in and out of the conversation and did well in keeping my word about remaining silent. But eventually, one of the girls started whining about how her boyfriend was threatening to break up with her, and I finally had enough.

"Look, I don't know why you're even concerned about keeping Jeremy in the first place because he's a total ass, but whatever. It's your life. All you need to do is keep his hope alive. If he thinks he even has the slightest chance of getting you into bed, he'll stick around. Keep feeding him just enough, and he'll do whatever you want."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of being in this club?" she sneered.

"No, Santana's right," I heard Quinn say. Surprised, my eyes darted over to her. There was a slight smirk on her face, and she was looking at me like I had just delivered the best news. "We can't let guys dictate what we can and cannot do. We have to be in control of our relationships. It's about respecting ourselves and our bodies. We shouldn't have to do anything we're not comfortable doing."

"Teasing without pleasing."

Brittany's comment made me laugh, but Quinn smiled a devil's smile and confirmed, "It's all about the teasing, and not about the pleasing."

Thanks to my advice, Quinn seemed to drop her attitude towards me. When the boys returned, there was a weird demonstration with construction paper that had been glued together and torn apart to represent the damage that is supposed to occur when we sleep with people and then break up or something, but otherwise the rest of the meeting was actually pleasant. I still took the first opportunity to escape, however, and Brittany followed me down the hall. We didn't get very far before Puck caught up to us.

"Santana! Wait! I need your help."

"With what?"

"Lynleigh Harris won't leave me alone. She keeps bugging me to go out with her and won't take no for an answer."

"So?"

He looked exasperated. "I need you to be my girlfriend so she'll leave me alone."

"Please tell me you're joking."

"Santana, come on. I'm sorry about what happened this summer. I promise I won't chase any more tail while we're together."

I scoffed. "Wow, you sure do know how to sweet talk a girl. I can't believe you're still single."

"Do you want me to beg?"

Brittany laughed, and I seriously considered it. "Sure."

"Santana," he whined, "I swear I'll take you out on dates and stuff."

"Fine, but I expect you to not act like a dick."

Puck grinned. "You won't regret this."

"Won't regret what?" Quinn asked from behind us. All three of us turned and saw her and Finn approaching our group. Puck declared that we were dating again, and for some reason, Quinn rolled her eyes. It turned out that Puck was driving the two of them home, so Brittany and I told them goodbye and walked out front to find that our mothers were already waiting for us.

* * *

><p>By the end of September, everything fell into a comfortable routine. Brittany and I were still studying SAT prep, and we added algebra review to our study sessions. And even though I wasn't thrilled about it, we were still faithfully attending the celibacy meetings (though neither one of us were adhering to the only rule for membership).<p>

Despite getting our new uniforms on the day of our meeting, the week that Rachel Berry decided to attend one of them marked the beginning of the shit hitting the fan. I suppose that if I'd been stuck with that freaky Jacob kid as my partner, I might go off on a rant too, but all it did was add fuel to the fire that was already raging inside of Quinn. The surprise Glee performance the next day, in which they performed their horrifying rendition of _Push It_, was the final explosion. Quinn was so pissed, I was disgusted, and oddly enough, Brittany found the whole thing entertaining.

"Seriously, Britt," I said, tossing my bag to the floor and flopping against my headboard, "How can you even consider that performance anything other than a nausea inducing freakshow?"

Brittany dropped her bag beside mine and pulled the tie out of her ponytail to shake out her hair. "It was funny."

"I wanted to throw up."

She smiled and crawled over to where I sat, throwing a leg over my lap to straddle me. "Maybe I can make you feel better."

I had to swallow the excitement I felt building. It had been more than a week since we'd last kissed because she and Mike had been getting a little more serious. I didn't want to ask, but I did anyway. "What about Mike?"

"What about Puck?" she countered through a small laugh.

I didn't want to tell her that I suspected that Puck was already hooking up with someone else because she would want to talk about it. I only hesitated for a moment before lifting my lips to hers for my first taste in days.

The slight pressure of her tongue against my lips began almost as soon as we started. She wasted no time in directing my hands through the new panels of her skirt. I never minded Brittany taking control because it was easier to convince myself that I was following along, which meant that I didn't have to question why I was doing the things we did, and I didn't have to analyze what it really meant. We could just make out and not worry about consequences. So when Brittany slid my palms to rest against her ass, I happily complied and held her against my lap. As always, she smiled into our kiss and rested her hands against my neck.

With Brittany sitting on my lap, it was easy to see why guys thought it was so hot having a girl kiss and straddle them at the same time. Of course, it could have just been the fact it was Brittany because at that moment, she was in her element. Her kisses had never felt better, and with her hair curtaining us from the rest of the room, it felt like I was being surrounded by everything Brittany.

It was quickly apparent that she was really worked up. Any lingering doubt was erased when her hands moved to my breasts after her hips started undulating against me. Knowing Brittany, the stupid performance had probably turned her on, and I almost laughed at the absurdity – that is, until her hands started squeezing me, and any laughter that might have bubbled up died in my throat.

I managed to catch her off guard when I flipped our positions. Brittany landed on her back, looking up at me with a surprised smile. Her hair was fanned out beneath her head, spread in every direction on the pillow. I caught a brief glimpse of her swollen lips before she pulled me back down. We kissed for several more minutes, and the subtle movement of her hips never stopped. Her legs had pinned one of my thighs between them, so I pressed into her a little to help.

"I want you to touch me," she breathed against my lips.

I still felt a little weird about the whole dry humping thing we had going, but I always pushed any awkward thoughts away by convincing myself that if Brittany didn't act weird about it, then I shouldn't either. It was easier to ignore when neither of us talked about it. So without thinking too much, I tried complying with her request by moving my hand from beneath her back to her breast, but before I could do anything more, Brittany grabbed my wrist.

"No," she said, shaking her head and pausing for a moment. "Santana…"

I thought my heart would stop when she started sliding my hand away from her breast and down her stomach. When my entire body tensed, she stopped, leaving my hand resting against her midsection.

The two of us had been toeing (if not completely stomping on) the line between friendship and something I tried desperately not to think about. I knew that if I allowed her to lead my hand any farther, we would be jumping on a rocket and blasting through that line into an unexplored territory, and that was terrifying. There were already two warring sides within me fighting to win out, and I could barely keep them balanced. On one side was a tremendous sense of guilt, brought on by a conservative upbringing in an extended family that stuck to very traditional (_very strict_) Catholic traditions, knowing that what I was doing with Brittany was not only wrong because I was technically dating Puck, but also because I'd been raised my whole life to believe that what we were doing was an abomination – and according to society, one of the worst kinds of sin. Despite trying to lie to myself, deep down, I knew best friends didn't spend their afternoons grinding against each other until they both got off. And the guilt lingered within me because not only was I indulging my urges (the other warring side), but I was _enjoying_ what we did. And I think that was the worst part – knowing that I was actually desiring and asking for Brittany's kisses, which only caused the guilt to heap upon me.

But that other side…I couldn't stop. No matter how many times I tried convincing myself that I was straight and didn't want (or need) this time spent with her, I could never resist giving in to the urges that seemed to come from deep within. There always seemed to be a small, quiet voice of reason that kept trying to convince me that what I felt was okay, that there was no reason to feel ashamed, that it wasn't wrong, and that maybe I wasn't as straight as I pretended to be. I tried everything to silence that voice, but nothing I ever did was able to stop it. And that was what scared me the most.

Somehow, Brittany always knew exactly how to push me to my limits without going too far, and I knew that I had to be the one to take the next step. She had already made it obvious she was more than willing to go with me. The balance between my guilt and wanting to experience something new finally tipped, and my body won the battle against my mind. As if they were making my decision for me, my muscles relaxed, and Brittany took that as permission to move her fingers from my wrist to the back of my hand.

I buried my nose into the crook of her neck as she guided my hand once more through the panels of her skirt until my palm rested against the red material between her legs. Brittany applied pressure until my hand was firmly pressed against her and then hummed in approval. The vibration of her throat, the sound, the smell of her hair, the warmth against my hand – it was strange, but I became paralyzed by my own arousal. I couldn't move because I was feeling so overwhelmed by everything.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until Brittany moved her hand from mine to my boob. I gasped against her neck, and her hips began moving in sync with her hand. All I could manage to do was keep the firm pressure against the apex of her thighs as she ground hard against the heel of my hand. At some point, Brittany had turned her head, resting her nose near my ear. I think she was trying to kiss me again, but I resisted because I wanted to listen to her. After a few of our…afternoons together, I'd noticed that when she gets closer to climaxing, her breath catches in several short gasps, almost too quiet to hear unless I'm listening very closely. Even though I was ashamed of it, I knew there was no sexier sound on the planet, so I remained selfish and refused to turn into her kiss so that I could keep my ear pressed near her mo/uth.

And then it happened. Brittany came with a soft moan and curled into me, clamping my hand in place. I soaked everything in, guiltily hoping to relive the moment in my dreams. But then I noticed that my phone was ringing inside of my bag. It was the ringtone I used for my father's cell, and it snapped me back into reality. I leapt off of Brittany as if he had knocked on my door and seen what I'd done. My hands were shaking as I opened my bag, frantically searching for my phone so that I wouldn't have to face Brittany after what had just happened. I heard her call my name, her voice laced with concern, but I brushed her off.

"It's dad. I have to answer this or else he'll ground my ass, and I won't be able to go to Elliott's party next weekend," I lied.

"Santa–"

"Hi, Papi," I answered, ignoring Brittany's attempt to get my attention. I quickly glanced at her reflection in my vanity's mirror. There was a flush around her neck and cheeks that had not yet disappeared. She was watching me with a worried expression. Or maybe it was disappointment. I looked away before I could think about it too much.

He sounded happy to hear from me. "Santana! Are you home from school already?"

I looked at my feet to avoid Brittany's stare. "Yes. Britt and I were just about to do our homework."

"That's good. Did you remember to call your abuela and invite her over tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir. I called as soon as I got here."

"Thank you. Tell your mother that I'll pick something up for dinner on the way home tonight."

"Okay."

"Talk to you soon, Santana. Love you."

"Love you, too."

When he hung up, I looked at my phone. Papi had always been no nonsense and straight to the point in his conversations, and I was left wishing that he'd had a little more to say so that I didn't have to think of ways to avoid the conversation that I knew was coming.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it," she started after a few moments, "but I want you to know that felt really good. Like, really good."

Her voice was low and comforting, and it relieved some of the panic threatening to rise within me. Cautiously, I glanced at her, hoping that she could see that I felt the same way without having to actually admit it out loud. Brittany was sitting up, and though her hair still looked a little wild, her color had returned to its normal pale shade. She was trying hard not to smile, and I knew that she understood. I took a deep breath, thankful that I was able to avoid _that_ conversation once again.

Suddenly, the door to my room burst open, scaring both of us, and causing me to drop my phone. It was Quinn.

"Oh, Brittany. Thank goodness you're here because I'll need your help too."

"What the fuck, Quinn?" I yelled, bending down to check my phone for damage. The main cause of my rage was knowing that Quinn could have seen _us_, which meant that in all likelihood, I would have been forced to kill her and bury her in the backyard before my mother arrived home in order to prevent her from telling everyone about what she saw. "What makes you think you're allowed to just barge in here without permission?"

She rolled her eyes without comment and began the process of hooking her iPod up to my speakers. "I need you two to help me with this routine."

"Which one?" Brittany asked.

"Like hell, I will. You can't just walk in here without call–"

Quinn interrupted my rant. "We have to join Glee Club. It's the only way I can keep an eye on Finn."

Brittany looked wary, and I shook my head. "No way."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at me. "Santana –"

"No, Quinn. There's no way we're joining that stupid club just because you can't trust that dumb oaf you call a boyfriend."

"It's not about trusting _Finn_," she insisted. "I don't trust the _thing_ that's developed an obsession over him."

"What's the difference?" Brittany asked.

Quinn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Finn is a good guy. But he's too nice for his own good. He'll get sucked into her manipulation, and then I'll – we'll be the laughing stock of the entire school."

"Sounds like a personal problem that has nothing whatsoever to do with either me or Brittany. Besides, if we join Glee Club, Sue will kick us off the Cheerios for sure."

Brittany looked between us. "Do you think she'd do that?"

"No, Brittany, I don't," Quinn said. "Not if all three of us stick together. There's no way she'd get rid of her three best. Not if she wants to win another national title."

"Glee could be fun," Brittany conceded.

Quinn grabbed onto Brittany's crumbling reluctance. "Exactly! You wouldn't have to go to the library and sit with old Ms. Everett anymore for study hall. We'd be in the choir room, and it'll be another opportunity for us to hang out and goof off without that battle ax looming over us."

Brittany looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. "Santana, if you joined, you could sing and stuff."

I couldn't believe she was actually considering Quinn's offer. "I couldn't care less about whether I get to sing."

"But you do it really well," Brittany pressed.

"So? I can sing in the car or the shower if I really want to sing."

"Santana, I really need your help with this," Quinn said, stepping closer and looking me right in the eyes. "You know how hard it is for me to ask for help, and I wouldn't ask you to do this if you weren't my best friend. Please."

I glanced back at Brittany, and she was giving me a look as if to say, _Come on, how can you not help her out?_ "Fine, I'll join, but don't think for one minute that I'll stay longer than it takes for you to rein in your wandering boy toy."

Quinn smiled and skipped over to her iPod. Brittany looked pleased with my decision to cooperate and patted me on the back when she got up to stand beside me. Quinn explained her plan to dance and sing her way into the club. I groaned when Dionne Warwick's _I Say a Little Prayer_ filled the room. Quinn rolled her eyes at my protest, but Brittany just laughed and immediately pulled me into a spin. I couldn't help but feel like we were about to start something that none of us were prepared to face.


	11. Three's a Crowd

We auditioned for Mr. Shuester the next day. As always, our routine was smooth, and I'll admit I was even a little surprised to discover during our practice the night before that we actually harmonized really well together. The three of us had always sung along to the radio when we hung out, but none of us ever really put actual effort into doing it properly. Apparently our performance gave Shuester an enormous musical boner because he was creepily enthusiastic when he shook all of our hands and welcomed us into the freakshow before we left the choir room.

News had always traveled around McKinley very quickly, but even I was astonished that Coach Sylvester found out about our audition as fast as she did. During third period, her voice screeched over the intercom, demanding my presence in her office. Brittany and Quinn were already seated when I arrived, apparently having been called out of their classes as well. My nerves were on edge. I just knew that she was about to kick all three of us off the squad.

We sat there in silence for a few moments while Coach Sylvester eyed us. If I hadn't been so anxious, I would have laughed at Quinn's pathetic begging, but as it were, I was thankful that I didn't have to resort to my own brand of begging either. The truth about Sue's strange vendetta against Mr. Shuester finally came to light when she ranted about our budget being cut back because of Glee Club. Thankfully, it was her insane drive for revenge that kept us on the team, and the wash of relief I felt when she actually gave her approval was like a tidal wave. I didn't particularly love being a Cheerio, but the few minutes where I'd convinced myself that I would no longer be part of Sue's squad had terrified me. To think that I'd dropped from the top to the bottom of the food chain in the high school circuit in just seconds made me cringe.

Coach's master plan was to bring down their confidence in Shuester. It was up to us to start planting the seeds of doubt in their minds. Sue wanted us to convince them that outside help was needed so that we could break them down quickly. Apparently, there's actually a market for show choir consults. Who knew?

Rachel seemed reluctant at first, but after convincing her that using a trained choreographer was basically guaranteeing a win, she jumped on board rather quickly, followed by the rest of them. Finn was the only one still supporting Mr. Shuester, and I could tell it annoyed Quinn that he refused to take her side, but for the most part, she ignored him as we continued to receive our orders from Sue and use our influence to start messing with our newest teammates.

When we took a trip to watch Dakota Stanley work with Vocal Adrenaline, Brittany and I rode with Quinn while the other Glee clubbers carpooled with Kurt in his Navigator. The rehearsal was like a hyped-up Cheerios practice with singing. Dakota could have been Sue's younger brother. He was vicious and cruel with his truth. His methods had no effect on the three of us, but the look of horror that crossed the other four's faces was encouraging. Luckily for Sue's plan, it wasn't enough to discourage them from inquiring about his services. On the way home, the three of us laughed about how much easier destroying them was going to be than we'd originally anticipated.

The next day was Friday, and it was also the night of Elliott Shearer's party. Rumor had it that Coach Tanaka rescheduled the game for the afternoon because he finally convinced that weird counselor he was dating to go to some monster truck rally in Columbus. Regardless, it was the perfect excuse for everyone to show up to Elliott's. The plan was for Quinn and Brittany to meet at my house. My mother had agreed to take us on their way to a retirement dinner for some old guy in our church. Because Abuela was going to ride with them, they would have to drop us off early so that they could pick her up before they went to the dinner, so it worked out perfectly for the three of us because we'd be at Elliott's before everyone got completely smashed.

Just a little after 4:30, I heard Brittany calling out my name as she bounded up the stairs. I let her know I was in my room, and she came through the door with a slight frown.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Quinn's not coming."

I rolled my eyes and kept digging through my closet looking for something to wear. "Why not? Would Russell not let her out of the house?"

"No," she said, plopping down in the chair beside my dresser. "She said she wasn't feeling well."

It wasn't like Quinn to miss a party for something so trivial. "Is she sick? She looked fine yesterday."

"I don't know. She wouldn't say anything except that she would see us Monday."

I hummed in acknowledgment and continued to look through my closet. I turned to see what Brittany was wearing. She had on black slacks and a loose red sweater with purple flats. I didn't know if she was planning to change into something I had here or not. "Is that your outfit for tonight?"

She stood and did a small twirl. "Yeah. I wanted to wear a skirt, but it's supposed to be cold, so…"

I turned back to my closet and slid a few more hangers around. "I can't decide on anything."

Brittany walked over to me, standing just behind my shoulder and reached over me to pull out a pair of dark skinny jeans and a long-sleeved blue and white striped cotton top. She handed the clothes to me and proceeded to dig around my extensive shoe collection at the bottom of the closet until she found an acceptable pair of heels to go with the outfit.

"Put these on, and I'll finish your make up. Then you can do my hair."

I couldn't stop the smile creeping onto my face. She grinned back at me and then turned towards my dresser to start organizing her supplies. I laid the clothes on the end of the bed and stripped down to my underwear. As I was pulling on my shirt, I caught Brittany watching me in the mirror. When she saw me, she looked back down quickly, busying herself with my makeup brushes and powders. A warm satisfaction filled my chest. It made me feel like laughing, but I didn't. Instead, I finished dressing, occasionally taking a peek towards Brittany as I did, but she never looked up until I sat down in the chair.

I didn't mention her sly glances as she worked on my makeup. Instead, we made small talk while we finished getting ready. When I started curling her hair, Brittany talked about Sue's plans for the car wash fundraiser scheduled for the following Tuesday and how she thought that we could make a lot more money for Glee Club if Coach Sylvester would let us wash the cars naked. She was smiling as she said it, and I laughed. I told her I was pretty sure that would be illegal.

After we were both ready, we met my parents downstairs and piled into the car. We'd left in the right amount of time to ensure they stayed clueless about the actual atmosphere of Elliott's party. When we pulled up to his house, I was convinced we'd escaped and gotten away with it until my dad asked, "How are you two getting home, Santana?"

My hand paused on the door handle as I scrambled for an answer. I hadn't thought that far ahead. I figured we'd hitch a ride back with whoever was sober enough to drive, but I knew that wouldn't fly with them.

"Um…"

"Karly's mom is taking us home," Brittany offered.

Mami turned around in her seat to look at us. "Karly who?"

"Roberson," I answered, picking up where Brittany had started, "She's just a freshman, but you know her dad. He works with Uncle Nathan."

Papi met my eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Jim Roberson?"

"Yeah, that's him. Do you want me to call her mom so you can talk to her?" I held my breath, waiting for their response. It was a gamble. We could very well be caught in our lie, but I was hoping my confidence would convince them we were telling the truth. Thankfully, it worked.

"No," Mami shook her head. "You girls go on and have a good time. Santana, remember: be home by midnight."

"Yes, ma'am"

Brittany and I said goodbye to my parents and climbed out of the car, linking pinkies as we walked up the long driveway that led to Elliott's house. As I predicted, there weren't many people there, but as we watched my parents drive away, more people started arriving. I'd seen Puck's truck parked in the driveway, so I knew he'd be inside somewhere. Brittany and I found him in the kitchen with Finn and Elliott setting up the bar for the night.

"Where's Quinn?" Puck asked.

I scowled. "That is _so_ not how you greet your girlfriend."

Puck put his hand over his heart and arranged his face into a mocking apologetic expression. "I'm so sorry. Where are my manners? Hello, ladies. Where's Quinn?"

"Asshole," I muttered, ignoring him and walking directly over to the red cups.

Brittany was more cooperative and told them about her conversation with Quinn. I handed her a drink and watched Finn look between us with confusion.

"So, she's not coming?" he asked.

Whatever Quinn sees in him is apparently invisible to the rest of society because Finn is probably the dumbest person on the planet. I grabbed Brittany's hand and tugged her out of the kitchen. "Oh my god. Come on, Brittany."

More people were streaming into the kitchen to pick up their drinks, and we took up our spot against the wall opposite of the front door to watch those arriving to the party. After a few minutes, Puck, Finn, Mike, and Elliott approached us with a few dozen cups and a folding table.

"Excuse us, ladies," Puck drawled. "This is the reserved space for the beer pong tournament. Would you like to be written into the bracket?"

Declining, the two of us stood to the side as they set up their table. Finn taped a posterboard containing an empty bracket to the wall. After a few minutes, it had been filled with several names. Puck and Finn took the first round, playing against Azimio and some dark haired boy I'd never seen before. Brittany and I watched them play the first game since there was nothing better to do.

After crushing their opponents, Puck was under the delusion that Brittany and I were good luck and demanded that we stay near while they played. I made him promise to stay away from us for the rest of the night, and he agreed, as long as he and Finn weren't playing.

"This party kind of blows," Brittany whispered when we sat down on a couch to watch the next round of pong. She had a point. There was no music, and only a few of the Cheerios actually showed up. There were some volleyball players that had made an appearance, but I didn't know any of them.

"Mhmm. It looks like we'll be making an early exit tonight."

"But Puck said we were his good luck."

"Puck's an idiot," I said, finishing the last of my drink. "Ready for a refill?"

"Why are you dating Puck when you don't like him very much?" Brittany questioned as we walked back into the kitchen.

"I don't know." I stalled, pouring slowly to think of a response. "I guess because he's there? I don't have to worry about losers trying to come on to me if they're afraid Puck will toss them into the dumpster. Plus, he's always good for a booty call if I ever want it."

Brittany took her drink from me. "You and I both know Puck isn't that great. And there are tons of people who'd kill to have the chance to sleep with you, if that's what you're concerned about."

I leaned back against the counter and watched the boys play their game. I didn't say anything for a moment. I couldn't really convince myself of the real reason I was with Puck. I didn't know if there was a real reason at all, so I said the closest thing to truth I could think of.

"It would look weird if I wasn't with anyone. And Puck is the best option, I guess."

"He's not the only option," Brittany suggested, nudging her elbow against mine.

I looked up at her. She was smiling at me like she had a secret that she was dying to tell. "What do you mean?"

Brittany leaned down towards my ear. "Matt is totally crushing on you."

My eyes cut across the living room to see him quickly glance away from where he'd been watching us and back to the game, where he was paired with Mike. I looked back at Brittany. "How do you know?"

"Mike told me," she said, sipping from her cup. "And Matt makes it painfully obvious."

He was staring at us again when I turned my head. This time, he awkwardly turned towards the pong table and got a weird look from his partner. I didn't know how to respond to this new piece of information, so I changed the subject. "Has Mike asked you out yet?"

Brittany sighed and swirled her drink in her cup. "Not yet. I think he might not be interested anymore…"

Mike was laughing and pointing at the other team. Apparently they had just spilled one of their cups all over the table to raucous laughter. "That's crazy. Who in their right mind wouldn't be interested in you?"

Brittany bit her lip and continued to swirl her drink. "He hasn't really talked to me in about a week."

"Maybe he's just been busy with football. I'm pretty sure I heard Puck and Finn griping about the extra practices that Tanaka's been forcing on them since they suck so much." I didn't know why I was taking up for Mike, but I didn't want Brittany to get down.

Her eyes were searching my face, but there was a small smile gracing her lips, as if she was tickled that I had given my approval. "You really think so?"

"I'm sure of it," I replied.

That made her smile grow, and she linked her pinkie in mine. Just then, we heard Puck yelling our names from the other side of the room.

"We're up again. I need our lucky ladies!" he called.

"Just a sec!" Brittany shouted back. I watched her top off our drinks and hold out two shots of a dark liquor. "Do one with me?"

I took one glass from her and tipped it back. Whiskey. Not a favorite. I coughed and chased it with a gulp from the Solo cup. Brittany linked her pinkie in mine again as we wove our way through the crowd and back to Puck's side. Within fifteen minutes, the game got a lot funnier. All of the players were significantly more buzzed than when they had started. Brittany and I were also both on the tipsy side of drunk. Whenever Puck and Finn started a game, he always had someone bring a new round of drinks for us. He said he didn't want us to wander too far away. Puck's boyish excitement and superstition were almost charming, but I found myself giggling more often at Brittany's commentary on the game.

Eventually, I felt the heavy need to use the bathroom. It was the first time I'd tried to move since Brittany and I left the kitchen, and my steps were a little wobbly. I didn't feel completely drunk, but I knew I should probably put a stop to the flow of alcohol for the night. I didn't want to arrive home and get grounded.

When I was done, my hand slid along the hallway's wall as I walked back towards the party. I could see the front door before I turned the corner and noticed a group of people walking out. I blinked, but I couldn't make out who they were, so I stepped back to Brittany's side. Apparently, my absence didn't go unnoticed. Brittany wrapped her arm through mine and laughed at Puck's outrage.

"Santana! Where have you been? We're getting stomped!"

"Nature was calling. I had to go."

Puck winced as Finn missed his next shot. "You couldn't have waited a little longer?"

"When you have to go, you have to go, Puck," Brittany explained, giggling at the incredulous look on his face.

There must have been some truth to the luck that Brittany and I provided because Puck and Finn lost that match and were subsequently eliminated from the tournament. The four of us moved away from the table, and I noticed that the rest of the room was a bit emptier than before.

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"A few people had to leave early," Finn replied, looking down at his phone. "Quinn's texting me. I haven't talked to her today. I guess I should see how she's doing. I probably ought to go."

"Dude," Puck said, "Are you going to her house, _now_?"

"Mike and Matt were in that group," Brittany explained, having lost interest in the boys' conversation. "Their ride had to be back before his curfew."

I whipped my head around looking for a clock. I didn't want to miss mine. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to eleven."

I looked back at Puck, who was our only real option for getting home this late. He didn't look anywhere close to being able to drive. "Shit. I'm going to miss curfew. Can I tell Mami that I'm staying with you tonight?"

Brittany grinned. "Sure. We can have a slumber party after this party."

She didn't say anything particularly funny, but I drunkenly giggled. My fingers moved extra slowly as I typed out a text to my mother letting her know I would be staying with Brittany. My face was about three inches from the screen, checking for any misspelled words. Calling would have taken a lot less effort, but my slurred speech would have been a dead giveaway. When I looked up, Finn was gone, and Puck still looked sullen.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"We were this close to winning," he explained, holding his fingers an inch apart and squinting his eyes at me. "So close."

"Sorry we made you lose," Brittany offered.

I laughed and bumped her with my hip. "Don't apologize for something that's not our fault."

"You know, you could always make it up to me," he suggested, stepping a little closer.

I should have seen it coming, but the haze of alcohol had not lifted, and Puck looked so ridiculous as he looked between Brittany and me. I asked, "How?"

Puck put his hands on our shoulders and turned us so that his arms rested around them. "I'm feeling kind of depressed, but there's one thing that always lifts me up when I'm feeling down."

"An elevator?" Brittany deadpanned.

I laughed and playfully slapped at her. She broke and started giggling with me. Puck just looked confused for a moment. "That wasn't really what I had in mind."

"I'm sorry, Puck," she said. "I promise I'll be serious now."

I looked across at her solemn expression and started laughing again.

"Normally, I'd only ask Santana, but since _both_ of you were supposed to be helping, it's only fair that the two of you help me out."

Brittany pulled a face at me and then turned back to Puck. "Help you with what?"

He lifted his eyebrows at us a few times before it clicked. "Oh my god, Puck. Stop trying to drag the two of us into your twisted fantasies," I reprimanded, pushing him away from us.

"Oh, come on," he whined. "It'd be totally hot and the perfect way to show me how sorry you are."

I looked at Brittany to see if she was as disgusted at his display of misogyny as I was, but she was looking at Puck curiously. "What would we have to do?"

My mouth dropped a bit, and Puck swelled with hope. "Like, you two could just make out, and then if you wanted, Brittany, you could join in when me and Santa–"

"Stop right there," I warned. "First of all, we are not here for your pornographic entertainment. Second of all, Brittany and Mike sort of have a thing, so doesn't inviting her into your pants violate some sort of weird bro-code or something?"

Brittany turned her curious stare towards me as Puck spluttered. "Brittany's not cheating if she's with another girl, and anyway, Mike hasn't said anything about it, so if they're not official, she's fair game."

I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to block out the fuzziness clouding my vision. "Brittany is not some object you can play with whenever your dick tingles."

I felt a slender hand slip into mine and squeeze. Brittany looked a little amused. My mouth shut on its own as I looked at her, slightly swaying from the drinks I'd had and slightly from the outburst I'd just displayed.

"I've kind of always wondered what it'd be like," she murmured, just low enough to keep Puck from hearing.

I couldn't tell if I was hearing her correctly. For a moment, the background noises disappeared, and all I saw in my periphery was blurriness. Brittany looked like she was waiting on me to say something.

"What?"

It was an ineloquent response, but my brain couldn't process anything else. Brittany asked Puck to give us a minute. He looked a little intrigued but slunk towards the couch a few feet away.

"I'm not trying to sway your decision if you're not interested, Santana," she spoke, looking a lot more sober than I felt, "but I think it could be fun. Especially since I already know you, and I guess Puck. Plus, I've kind of wanted to kiss you all night because you look really hot. And if you're really not into the idea, we could just make out a little for Puck and save the rest for my house, if you wanted."

I couldn't tell if I was having a weird dream or if it was actually happening. Never in a million years did I think I would actually be considering having a threesome with Puck, much less that the third person would be Brittany. My body was involuntarily reacting to her words. I watched as my hands wrapped around her arms to steady myself, and then heard my voice say, "Okay."

Brittany turned and led us over to Puck, who jumped up when he saw us approaching. The eager look on his face snapped my mind into a temporary sobriety, and I realized if I was actually about to go through with this, I had to lay down some ground rules.

"Before you say anything," I started, holding up a finger to silence him, "there are a few things you have to understand."

Puck grinned lecherously and nodded, so I continued, "If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will cut off your dick. Got it?"

Again, he nodded a bit dumbly but with a more serious expression.

"You're not allowed to touch Brittany unless she gives you permission. And I don't want you thinking to can do any sort of weird kinky shit either."

Holding a hand over his heart, Puck promised, "I'll be good. I swear it!"

I looked to Brittany who squeezed my hand again, and the two of us followed Puck to the back of the house. My bravado from giving Puck the rules began melting away, and even in my inebriated state, I felt fear start to creep into my body. My hands started trembling at the realization of what I was heading into. If Brittany noticed, she didn't mention it, and I sure as hell didn't want to bring attention to the fact that I was having doubts. Puck held the door open to what looked to be a guestroom, and we walked inside. Once he closed the door and locked it, I felt frozen.

"What now?" Brittany asked.

He walked over to the foot of the bed and sat. "Why don't you two make out for a bit?"

"Okay," she replied easily.

Brittany turned to me, and I tried to not let my anxiety show. I shut my eyes quickly before she had a chance to look into them and leaned forward to kiss her. She took my hands in hers and pulled me closer, placing them on her waist so she could hold my jaw. Without prompting, Brittany took control, and for the first time, I felt myself let go just a little to follow her lead. After I refocused on what Brittany was doing, my body started to loosen. Muscle memory took over, and we fell into a familiar rhythm. We each took turns opening our mouths to let the other in, taking our time without a need to hurry. My hair was tangled around Brittany's fingers as she tilted my head to start kissing down my neck.

That's also when I felt a warm body approach me from behind. My fingers dug into Brittany's waist. I didn't know if she knew the real reason I'd tensed or if she thought it was in reaction to what she was doing. Whatever she thought, her hands moved from their place in my hair to underneath my shirt. Her mouth moved back to mine the instant I felt her cup my breasts. A surprised whimper escaped through my nose. When it did, Puck pressed against my back. His hands circled my waist and pulled me into him. I could feel his hard-on against my ass, and I cringed away, or at least, I tried. I was sandwiched tightly between the two of them. Rough stubble rubbed against my neck when Puck started kissing me behind my ear. Brittany's tongue was stroking mine insistently, and I was almost able to ignore his hands unbuttoning my jeans. She must have felt what he was doing because as soon as they were undone, Brittany pushed them to the ground and helped me step out of my heels.

Suddenly and without warning, the intense reality of the situation slammed into me. I was about to have sex. With Puck. _And Brittany_. Together. In the same room. I was about to sleep with my best friend for the first time, and I would be sharing that moment with a boy I didn't even like that much. Brittany and I had been giving each other orgasms since the summer, but it would be the first time we would be completely naked. And in all likelihood, we wouldn't just be grinding against each other. The dread that was starting to consume me originated from the sudden thought that I didn't want to participate in the threesome because I didn't want my first time with Brittany to be tainted by having to share the experience with Puck.

When I realized that I actually wanted a _first time_ with Brittany, it was as if my lungs had stopped pulling in enough air. I froze, feeling claustrophobic, and then suddenly, I had to move. I broke my kiss with Brittany and slipped out from their grasps. I tried taking a breath, but I couldn't get enough oxygen.

Brittany asked me if I was alright and held out her hand to touch me, but I stepped away. I fell back on my old standby of needing to use the restroom and made a beeline for the door. I barely registered Puck making the comment _We'll be here when you get back_ as I fled through the doorway.

There was still a lot of noise floating down the hall, so I knew there were several people were still around. The bathroom became my only option of escape, and I stumbled inside. The combination of alcohol and unsteady breathing made my head feel light and my knees feel weak. I was able to close the door before my legs gave out, and I slid down the wall. My hand feebly reached for the lock on the door. Once I managed to twist it, my chest started heaving, trying to take in air.

It was impossible to get my body under control. The only thing my mind could process was the fact that I had just admitted to myself that I wanted to sleep with Brittany. Even though we'd been regularly making out, and I'd gotten over my initial timidity, I had convinced myself that there was nothing _gay_ about what we were doing. It was just something the two of us did because it felt good and there were no boys around. But sitting in that bathroom, feeling frozen and gasping for breath, for the first time I entertained the idea that Brittany might be more than a best friend. That what I felt for her could be…a crush.

I shook my head furiously at the thought, causing tears to fall down my cheeks. I couldn't have a crush on Brittany. I _knew_ that I was straight. Brittany was attractive and funny and the best friend I'd ever had, but that didn't mean I liked her like _that_. I wanted to believe so badly that every girl felt this way about her friends, but a nagging voice at the back of my head reminded me that I didn't kiss Quinn, and I surely didn't have a desire to sleep with her.

My body was shaking with full blown sobs when I heard a knock on the door and Brittany's soft calling of my name. I didn't want her to see me like this because I didn't want to have to explain why I was crying uncontrollably in a bathroom instead of making out with her and Puck.

"Santana, let me in. I can hear you hyperventilating through the door. Please, Santana, just let me in," she pleaded.

I was feeling too dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the waning influence of all of the drinks I'd had, but somehow, I was able to command my arm to unlock the door. Brittany burst through and closed the door quickly behind her, falling to her knees in front of me. Immediately, I noticed that she was no longer wearing her sweater. My imagination went wild with scenarios of her and Puck together while I was gone from the room. The thought made my chest constrict, and I started choking. Brittany took my face in her hands and forced me to look at her.

"Santana, I need you to breathe. Take deep breaths, honey. Slow."

She was doing her best to stay calm, but I could see in her eyes that she was scared, which terrified me and only made things worse.

"Britt–I can't–br–"

"Yes, you can. Slow. Come on, Santana. Breathe through your mouth. Slow. That's it."

I mimicked her by pursing my lips and tried hard to breathe with her, but my body kept rebelling against me, sucking in quickly, causing me to take short, sharp gasps instead of the steady inhale and exhale Brittany was coaching. As I worked to get my lungs to work properly, she stroked my hair away from my face and wiped my tears away, offering soft words of encouragement. After several minutes, I managed to calm myself down and started breathing normally, with only a few sniffles every few seconds. When she thought I could speak, Brittany asked, "What happened?"

Exhaustion was beginning to overtake me. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall, trying to decide what to tell her. There was no way in Hell that I would tell her the truth. Instead, I settled for something that wasn't completely untrue.

"I drank too much."

My eyes remained closed as she stroked her thumbs over the back of my hands. I felt terrible for making her worry, but I didn't have the energy to try and reassure her.

"Do you want to leave?"

I nodded but didn't make any attempt to move. Brittany told me to stay where I was and that she would be right back. I slumped against the cabinet next to me, using it and the wall to keep me propped upright. I felt sleep start to set in, but Brittany returned before I could completely pass out. Her sweater was back on, and my pants and heels were in her hands.

"I told Puck that you weren't feeling well and that you'd probably puke on him if I didn't take you home."

I smiled weakly and allowed her to help me to my feet. She turned me so that the counter was supporting the majority of my weight and allowed me to use her shoulders to balance as I slipped my legs back into my jeans. She decided to forgo helping me into my shoes and directed us back into the hallway. Somehow, we managed to slip past the few stragglers remaining in the living room and walked outside into the cool October air. I felt horribly sober and utterly embarrassed as we sat down on the porch swing.

"I'm sorry."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brittany turn her head to look at me. "For what?"

"Everything. How I acted. I drank too much," I repeated.

Her fingers tangled with mine and she rested her temple against the top of my head. "If you didn't want to do the thing with Puck, you should have told me."

"It's not that," I started and then hesitated. "I just didn't want to sleep with him," I finished quietly.

Still refusing to look at her, I could tell she was searching my profile for any hint of…I didn't know what. Thankfully, she didn't press the matter, and we sat in silence for a few minutes. That is, until her mother's car pulled up to the curb. I jumped up, panicking.

"Fuck! Brittany, your mom's here!"

She linked her arm in mine and started the long walk across the front yard towards the car. "I know. I called her when I left you in the bathroom."

"Why would you do that?" I hissed, feeling tears prickling against my eyes once more. I quickly convinced myself that my parents were going to kill me because they were going to find out about everything – the drinking, the failed threesome…my crush – _everything_.

"She told me that if I ever got stuck at a party, no matter what time it was or what I'd been doing, she wanted me to call her. Mom said it was better than getting in a car with someone too drunk to drive, and Puck was still super drunk when I went back to the bedroom."

I watched as Carolyn jumped out of the car and hurried forward to meet us. I was crying by the time she got to us.

"Santana, what's wrong? What happened?" she asked, looking as worried as Brittany had been.

I did my best to look as if I hadn't drunk seven cups of God knows what, but my incessant weeping prevented that from happening. Thankfully, Brittany once again came to my rescue.

"She's just not feeling well. Our ride ditched us, and there wasn't anyone else available to take us home."

Carolyn rubbed her hand against my back in the standard mothering comfort move. I'm sure the worst scenarios were playing through her mind. "Are you sure you're alright, Santana?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said in the most convincing voice I could. "Just sick, is all."

I don't think I managed to succeed in reassuring her, but she ushered us into the car without any more questions. As her mother pulled back onto the street, Brittany asked if it was okay for me to stay the night, to which Carolyn replied, "Of course." That was the last thing I remembered before finally giving in to the overwhelming exhaustion that was begging my body for sleep.


End file.
